


Who Wants To Sing About Tragedy?

by Aretsuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Better Together: A FitzSimmons Partnered Exchange, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fitzsimmons AU, a bit of angst with happy endings just as asked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aretsuna/pseuds/Aretsuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Simmons had seen Fitz, he was standing on the stage and torturing her favourite song like it was no big deal. And that was just the beginning.</p><p>"You’re singing my favorite song but you’re singing it wrong" Fitzsimmons AU written as a gift for Fitzsimmmonsy and Ruthedotcom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I think I fell in love again. Maybe I just took too much cough medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fitzsimmonsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsy/gifts), [ruthedotcom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthedotcom/gifts).



> Huge thanks to my partner from Better Together exchange, EclecticMuses for helping me with the outline, songs, playlists and beta reading the whole thing! 
> 
> Some songs will be mentioned in this fic and there will be opinions about them. I wanted to point out that they are not my personal opinions- in fact I really like most of mentioned songs.

_Go to karaoke_ , Skye had said. _It will be fun_ , she’d said.

“Come on, Simmons.” Skye nudged her with her elbow. “Relax and live a little.”

It was the fifth time that day that Skye had used this argument. Apparently Simmons’ usual way of spending the evening, which was going through her reports from work and watching movies or tv shows, was not acceptable. Today her roommate had decided that it was time for a break and that Simmons should get out and socialise a little. According to Skye, it should have had a good influence on her mood.

It hadn't.

Jemma Simmons was bored out of her mind by the lack of any intellectual stimulation, irritated by flashing lights of the bar, and on the verge of a headache from all the noise around her.

This was definitely not her ideal Friday evening. To think, she could have been doing something fun, like reading the latest scientific articles or even watching Discovery Channel! But no, she had to sit here and listen to people insulting popular songs with their untrained voices.

“Oh, look!" Skye poked her arm a few times. “Look, look, it's Fitz! The one from the lab, you know, the new engineer? We've talked about him, remember?”

Simmons looked in the direction her friend was pointing. Of course she remembered, her memory was extraordinary and the one of him was quite and intense and recent one.

* * *

 

Simmons was sitting at her desk, trying to look casual and remember what people normally did in their work when they had some free time. It wasn’t looking at their monitors and checking their e-mail inbox every twenty seconds, that’s for sure. She looked away from the screen and tried to focus on something else- for example, Skye’s happy babbling about new computers. Or were they servers? She drummed her fingers over the desk’s surface, reminding herself to stay calm and not raise her hopes too high while she was waiting.

This was more important to her than it should have been and she was well aware of that. The whole situation shouldn’t have been complicated and she shouldn’t be paying so much attention to it. It should have been simple: there was a new employee in the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientific division and they were supposed to work together on a new project. It hadn’t passed the designing phase yet, so they were both working on their own parts, adjusting theoretical calculations and making their own simulations, but soon they would have to enter the practical stage. In three weeks the prototype would be built and they would start testing. Together. She didn't even know who she would be working with, since he had started working there just a month ago and was hired only for this one project. It was very important, so she had been doing all she could to appear nice and open, even though she wasn’t too much into socialising. They had been exchanging opinions via e-mail, making sure that each of their fields were fully covered.

And there the problem started: Simmons was trying to give some input. She was trying to be professional, and treat their task with the attention it deserved. First, she had written about things that needed to be done for her part to work. Then she had started adding more details and suggestions. When this too hadn't worked, she had finally added a suggestion about a modification to his part of design. Now she was nervously waiting for his reply.

There was a soft ping sound from her computer, signaling new message. She looked at it quickly, with impatience and a hint of excitement.

_Thanks._

That was all it said.

She slowly exhaled.

Well, at least this time it was not plain Okay.

“What's up, Simmons?” Skye stopped babbling and came closer, throwing a look at Simmon’s hand clenching on her lab coat.

“The guy I'm supposed to work with hates me?” She tried to explain.

“What? Why?”

”I don't know, we haven't even met yet!”

“Then why do you think he hates you?”

“Well, it's either that or he thinks I'm really dumb. Which can't be the case since I'm quite smart and I made sure to make that apparent in my messages.”

“Oh.” Skye nodded her head in understanding. “You're just overreacting like always.”

“I never overreact!”

“Yeah, sure. Remember when Morse took you for that random security check? Standard procedure?”

“That was different!”

“Mhm. So, what did this hater do to you? Spit in your tea? Switched it with coffee? Pushed you down the stairs?”

“He's ignoring my messages,” she said.

“Not responding?”

“No. He's giving me one-word answers.” She pointed at her screen accusingly.

“Oh, I get it. Pure hate. Totally. Let me see.” Skye stood behind her and read the mail.

“Oh, you're talking about Fitz, the singing engineer. I met him when he started working here. I had to make a few adjustments to the  computers in his lab. He's okay.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah, he's always humming something under his nose. Really, a nice guy. And what were you expecting from him anyway? An elaborate reply similar to yours?”

“It's a perfectly normal message.”

“It's like a milion words, Simmons.”

“Actually, it’s barely over two thousands, but it's meaningful! Wouldn't make sense if I wrote it shorter.” She puffed and turned away, because Sky was great, but sometimes she just didn't get things.

* * *

 

Simmons pushed her lips into a thin line and looked at the stage and the enigma of a man walking onto it, wondering what would he sing. Was there a song with lyrics containing only one word? Or maybe he would just hum the whole thing. Or will it be a “4’33” kind of thing, just standing there for a while and turning the audience into a music instrument?

She heard the first sounds of her favourite song and looked more carefully, with hope shyly emerging from the bottom of her mind, that maybe they weren’t so different after all. Maybe they had something besides science in common and their cooperation on that project wouldn’t end in a complete disaster.

“ _Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns..._ ” Fitz started in a voice that was so devoid of emotions that he almost sounded like he was trying to pass as an artificial reading machine. Nobody would be motivated by this robotic war cry. Simmons was trying to be understanding, thinking that maybe he would warm up in the middle of the song.

He didn't. If anything, he was even worse. At one point his deadpan reached its peak and he was all but speaking the lines of a song.

By the end of it, Simmons was sitting at the edge of her stool, trying not to let her anger get the better of her. Skye was throwing glances at her every now and then, but Jemma was too furious to even notice, focusing on sending Fitz intense glares instead. It was not just an insult to the song- her favourite song. No, it was an insult towards art and everything in the world that was pretty and divine. It called for action.

Skye must have interpreted her actions all wrong, since the moment Fitz stopped singing (if the word even applied to the situation), she took Simmons’ arm and practically dragged her off the stool, saying something about how the two of them had to finally meet each other.

She went willingly since the alcohol inside her whispered that the situation called for action and that she should be the one to defend everything that was good in art. This would be the right moment to start.

“Fitz!” Skye waved to him when she got near.

There was a tiny part of Simmons trying to remind her that she should behave like a proper lady, like she did every day. But this wasn't every day, since she was not in her room. She should have waited for Skye to make introductions or some nice small talk, but when Jemma looked at his unruly hair and slightly wrinkled shirt and sweater in nice grey colour and the world around her was still a little wavy because of the alcohol she had drank, she forgot all about politeness and social protocols and said the first thing that came to her mind.

“You sang my favourite song, but you sang it all wrong!” She poked his chest with her finger accusingly, not really thinking about what she was doing.

“Well, thank you for this encouragement, Nightingale.” His voice, Scottish, she noticed, sounded more surprised than offended and he even smiled a little at them.

“Hey Skye, good to see you,” he greeted her.

“Hi! This is Simmons.” Skye gestured to her with amused expression. “Biochemist from the science division. You guys will be working together soon, from what I've heard.”

“Oh, so that's you. I’m Fitz. Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand out to her.

“No, you don't understand. I'm not saying that your singing abilities are bad.” Somehow her brain was still sticking with her first line of thought. “I'm saying that you sang it wrong. You weren't even trying!”

“Let's sit somewhere, we can’t talk in the middle of the bar,” Skye was enjoying herself way too much in Simmons’ opinion, but she was too occupied with other things to deal with it now.

“True, I wasn't.” Fitz nooded in agreement without any trace of shame.

“So you're admitting it!”

“Indeed I am. I lost a bet and had to sing, so I went and sang. No rule that the performance had to be perfect. Besides,” he continued as they all sat at the table in the corner, “I don't like this song very much.”

“What? This is one of the best Disney songs!”

“Depending on what you like. There's a lot of better songs.”

And that was how Jemma Simmons reached the conclusion that Leopold Fitz was not only rude, but also really dumb. Too dumb to engage into a discussion with.

“No, no, you obviously just never listened to it closely. It's a great song,” she couldn't stop herself from adding. So much for not engaging.

“I did. I know the lyrics. This song is all about how you are not good enough and you have to change or hide who you really are-how you can't achieve anything the way you are and you have to pretend to be someone else. Change or hide your true self. Not very good motivation for a motivational song.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Skye patted her arm.

“Come on, Simmons we didn’t come here to argue over songs. We came here to have fun! Who wants something to drink?”

“I’ll have to pass. I have to find Hunter or he’ll think that I ran away in embarrassment,” said Fitz, rising from his seat.

“Bring him here, the more the merrier.” Skye smiled and Fitz just shrugged and nodded.

“Okay, I will be right back.” he said before leaving their table.

“See, he's not that bad,” Skye told her. “And now you know each other, so you don't have to worry so much about your project. Now excuse me, I will bring us some more drinks. Just wait here, don't do anything I wouldn't do!” With that she was gone, leaving Simmons all alone in a crowded bar.

Not for long though, since soon Fitz rejoined her along with a guy she didn’t recognize.

“Simmons, Hunter.” He introduced them, and she nodded. She remembered Hunter's name since his relationship with Bobbi Morse was famous in S.H.I.E.L.D., but they had never meet in person. “He’s my roommate and the one responsible for my singing over there.”

“Hey, you’re the one who lost! You can’t blame me for taking the most of it.”

She was silent, a little uncomfortable sitting there with two strangers, so she just smiled politely and tried to locate Skye among the crowd at the bar.

“Still mad about the song? Why do you like it so much?” asked Fitz.

She looked at him again, trying to gauge if he was trying to make fun of her or just trying to be polite.

“Because it’s a great song. Not only the melody and the singing, but also the meaning. It’s all about becoming stronger and fighting the obstacles and winning over them if you try hard enough.”

“Really? You’re finding something positive and motivating in ‘the saddest bunch I've ever met’, ‘you're a spineless pale pathetic lot’ and the fact that Mulan was afraid of showing her true face the whole time?” Fitz didn’t look convinced.

“But she had won in the end! She was smart enough to take the arrow and they let her stay.”

“Simmons, I told you not to talk about this song,” Skye scolded her playfully while handing her a drink. Simmons looked at her surprised that Skye has managed to come back unnoticed when she was busy talking with Fitz. “No overanalysing stuff, you’re not fun this way.”

“I can be fun when I want to.”

“Okay, lets be fun then and sing a duet!”

“No way, I’m not singing and you know it, Skye.”

“Even for me?” She tilted her head the way she thought made her look cute.

“Even for you. No singing.”

“Fine then, just watch and learn.” With that, Skye stood up from her stool and went to the stage, leaving Simmons alone. With two guys. Again.

She started playing with her straw, pushing the ice all around the glass and trying to think of something that she could be doing in this situation. Should she say something or wait for them to start the conversation? Should she keep looking at her glass or should she look around? Why did social interactions have to be so complicated? He’d probably realised she was a boring loser by now. It was worse than when they’d just exchanged e-mails, but now there was no denying that Dr. Jemma Simmons was not a good companion to have. Their project would be ruined for sure, all because she couldn’t manage to make simple small talk.

Skye was still singing and Simmons threw her a look. It was Skye’s fault. Really. If it wasn’t for Skye, she wouldn’t be there. If it wasn’t for Skye she wouldn’t have made a fool of herself during her introduction to Fitz. If it wasn’t for Skye she wouldn’t be sitting there desperately trying to figure out what to do. And here was her friend, singing happily with no care in the world about the disaster she had started. Skye was making a show, following the melody and adding to it when she felt like it, not caring about the fact she was out of tune, to the point that it was hard for Simmons to even identify the song.

“What is it?” She muttered under her breath, trying to figure it out.

“Spice Up Your Life” said Fitz and sung the next line along with Skye. The difference was too huge to miss it.

“Oh, so you do have a voice,” she said, surprised by how differently it sounded compared to earlier.

“Yeah, I used it for talking all night.” He furrowed his brows a little.

“No,” she tried to explain. “I mean that-”

His smile interrupted her, because there was something in it that told her to relax and force her own lips to curl slightly. And was that a wink? Had he just winked at her?

“So, you’re not singing?” he asked and she just shook her head, still trying to crack the meaning of the his almost-wink. “Why come to karaoke then?”

“Skye,” she pointed. “She dragged me by force.”

“What were you planning to do this evening instead?”

“Well, uhm...” She was trying to think of an answer that would not make her look like a weird nerd. Shopping was discarded pretty fast as impossible to do in the evening. Going to the bar followed its footsteps, as the one she was currently doing, well, technically. All she was left with was the truth. “I was going to read the latest issue of Science Fair,” she admitted. “I just got it this afternoon.” She added lamely.

“Oh, you’re gonna like it, it’s really good,” he said. “There’s this article about methods of cloaking objects so they can’t be seen, which is quite interesting.”

“Really? Who wrote it?”

“Anne Weaver.”

“Oh, she’s great, I love her articles!”

“Yeah, she’s really good. Too good for one column, they should give her like five pages. Would be much better than Dormer. His pieces look like they’re just copies of the previous ones with minor changes in the hope nobody would notice that it doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s not that bad, just inexperienced.” She tried to defend young scientist.

“Then he shouldn’t have had so many pages. Is it a scientific magazine or a writing workshop? It was called Science Fair, not Science Fiction the last time I checked.”

She laughed a little and asked him about the articles from the last month. And some other things. And then something else. And somehow she stopped focusing so hard on being poilte and social and friendly and was just talking with him, like it was the simplest thing in the world. There was no way that Skye managed to come back, finish her drink, sing again, eat a whole bowl of pretzels, sing again and finish another drink during their conversation, like she claimed later. Simmons would have definitely noticed if any if that happened.

Skye’s teasing later that night, when they were both in their pyjamas, was completely unreasonable. Absolutely. The suggestions that she had caught Fitz’s eye were just ridiculous. Really, all Simmons did tell Skye just after they had left the bar, was that Fitz seemed funny. She didn’t deserve the wave of meaningful glances she got in return.

“Oh come on,” Skye shouted from the bathroom, her mouth full of toothpaste. “He was so friendly with you! You can’t deny that one.”

“He was snarky all night long!” she protested while making her bed for the night.

“That’s Fitz’s version of friendly,” came the muffled reply.

Simmons sat on her bed trying to ignore her friend.

“And he’s not so outgoing with anyone, believe you me,” added Skye.

Simmons hid her feet under the duvet and looked down at it, not really seeing it, and smiled to herself.

 _Friendly, huh?_  

* * *

 **A/N:** _(since for some reason links in notes are not working)_

Huge thanks to my partner from Better Together exchange, [EclecticMuses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse) for helping me with the outline, songs, playlists and beta reading the whole thing!

This fic has a [soundtrack and character playlists](http://aretsuna.tumblr.com/post/119444287121/the-first-time-simmons-had-seen-fitz-he-was) and thanks to EclecticMuse also an [artwork cover](http://eclecticmuses.tumblr.com/post/119447218936/who-wants-to-sing-about-tragedy-why-do-you) and a [photoset](http://eclecticmuses.tumblr.com/post/119447263281/who-wants-to-sing-about-tragedy-because)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from "American Psycho" by Fallout Boy. Simply because I listened to this song a lot while writing this fic.


	2. If I look hard enough into the settin’ sun

Most people hated Monday, but Simmons never could help getting excited by the mere prospect of coming back to her lab, making new experiments and discoveries.

She started her week quite well- finished the analysis and gone through her notes about her new project. Feeling more optimistic than usual, she wrote her daily e-mail to Fitz and was even brave enough to ask for his advice. She was convinced that it would be a good way to start a professional relationship. This would not only let him know that she valued his opinion, but it would also give him a chance to write something more in reply. They knew each other now, and according to Skye he did not hate her, so this would be the best moment to strengthen their bond. She had to strike while the iron was still hot.

She was smiling softly to herself while cleaning some vials when she heard the alert announcing an incoming message. Anticipation pushed her toward her computer and she opened the mail with a slightly shaky hand.

_Okay._

Simmons didn’t know why this time it hurt more than usual, but it did. She drew her lips into a thin line and walked away from her lab with determination.

It wasn’t a long walk to the engineering labs, just a flight of stairs and a few more minutes of crossing corridors until she finally arrived. The door was open and she could see Fitz clearly through it. He was working on something, bent over his desk clattering with some wires, his back turned to her. The radio was playing a nice tune; ‘Paint It Black’, she thought. But it wasn’t the only sound in the lab, since Fitz was singing along. Kind of.

“ _I see a black door and I want it painted white,_ ” he sang while tightening a screw on a tiny machine. “ _No shadows anymore, I want them to turn bright.”_

She stood there in the doorway for a few seconds listening, unnoticed, until she decided to say something.

“That’s not how it goes,” she interrupted him.

“I know.” He turned to her and his eyes lightened up a little. “They’ve got it all wrong.” He pointed to the radio. “So, what brings you all the way down here?”

“I’ve sent you an e-mail-” she started explaining.

“Yeah, I’ve replied to it already,” he cut in.

“You’ve written ‘okay’,” she said, giving him an accusing look.

After a moment of silence he got a hint that she was waiting for him to speak.

“Yes, I did. And...?” He let his voice hang in a question.

“There was a question in there! Did you really even read it?”

“Of course I have!” He looked offended.

“Well, I asked about switching the placement of the gas container from the front to the rear,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s okay.”

She kept looking at him for a long moment, silently urging him to add something.

“Really, it’s okay,” he said. “You can switch it if you want to, no problem.”

She listened in silence, trying to force the words out of him with only the strength of her will.

“It’s quite a good idea, to tell the truth,” he continued when she still did nothing but stare. “And the changes you’ve suggested last time were great.” He stopped talking for a moment, looking at her to check if his answer would satisfy her. “Really helped. Good thinking, you’re really smart,” he added after a pause.

“Oh.” She smiled at the praise. “Thank you.”

He just nodded and looked back at his work. She took in her surroundings too, trying to think of something to say, to give him some impression of herself that would be different than ‘overreacting workaholic with no private life’. Something nice that would break the ice. She dropped her eyes over to his workspace, looking for inspiration. Right- she could ask about what he was currently working on. That would be a good start.

“So...” she started, “Leo. I can call you Leo, right? Wha-”

“No.” His cold reply cut her, sharp and unexpected like a dagger.

“Oh,” she mumbled, losing her train of thought and trying to find her words again. She took a step back and circled her arm over her stomach to give herself some sort of comfort. This hint was not subtle at all and Jemma Simmons was not one to intrude when she was clearly not welcomed.

“Well then,” she took another step back. “I will be-”

“Could you pass me the Torx T-6?” he cut in and bit his bottom lip slightly when she just stared at him in confusion. “It’s on the table, right next to you.”

She looked and indeed, there was a screwdriver with a star-shaped tip and the number 6 engraved on the handle. It wasn’t that far from Fitz’s reach. Really, all he had to do was take a step forward and bend a little. She took it and gave it to him, still at a loss as to what exactly was happening.

“Thanks.” He smiled and took it from her, careful not to brush his fingers over her hand, and put it on his desk. “Fitz is fine. Really. I prefer my surname,” he told her quietly, fumbling with some piece of metal he had just picked up from his desk.

“Oh. I see,” she said, watching his hands carefully, not knowing what the right answer was.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and scraped his jaw with his free hand. “So. What are you working on today?”

“Um, I’m analysing some plant samples from Mexico. Checking if they can influence nearby flora in any way. They have an enormously fast photosynthesis process, from what I’ve discovered so far.”

“Sounds interesting,” he smiled lightly. “I’m trying to recreate a device from 1941. They’ve given me half-burned blueprints and a list of functions they want to be added.”

“Sounds complicated,” she said, catching a lock of her hair that had escaped from her ponytail and tucking it behind her ear.

“Not so much.” His smile brightened a little, and he moved back to make room for her by his desk. “Look.” He showed her a part of the device and she stepped closer to look at it.

And so he showed her the device and she told him about her last project and they both complained a little about lab assistants and terrible tea from the cafeteria. The radio was still playing in the background and he hummed under his breath from time to time. They were both late for their lunch break.

* * *

 

“You look awfully cheerful, even for you on Monday,” Skye pointed out when Simmons finally managed to sit next to her with her lunch box. “Have you got some new, extra gross samples to get excited about?”

Simmons looked at Skye, a little surprised. True, normally she would be happy during Monday, but being late always made her anxious. Except now she was simply too glad and relieved to care about being forced to eat in a hurry.

“No, just the ones I’ve mentioned before. They are quite interesting, really. Some of their properties are so surprising, like if they-”

“Yes, yes, I get it, new vials are super fun. At least you’re not panicking over this new project anymore.” Skye rolled her eyes, but smiled a little at her friend.

“Oh, actually, Fitz and I decided to do some major changes to it. I suggested moving the gas container and he thought of a way to not only make it smaller and lighter, but also more powerful because of air compression! Can you believe that? And he made a sketch of it, in like, five minutes! With all the calculations needed to check if it’s possible to construct! Isn’t it amazing?” Simmons looked at her with excitement, waiting for her to agree.

“Wow.” Skye tried to muffle her laughter by placing a hand over her lips. It didn’t work well. “You know him just a few days and you’re already fangirling? Nice, Simmons!”

“What? No, you don’t understand! That’s not the point, the point is that with these modifications the device will be so much more useful. And that’s just something we came up with during a short conversation, imagine how much we can do when we start truly cooperating!”

“Yeah, for example a bunch of babies that would be both beautiful and geniuses,” Skye winked.

“No, Skye, stop it! This is way more important than your jokes!” Simmons whined.

“Are you sure?” Skye’s face turned serious in a split second. “Seriously, Simmons, I’ve never seen you be this excited and rambling about anyone, let alone a guy, let alone a guy you’ve just met. You and Fitz are both smart, you have a lot in common and you clearly enjoyed his company. You’re not dating anyone right now, so why would you cross such a possibility off from the start?”

“Because we are supposed to be working together and that’s what we have to focus on.”

“You could do some extra after hours,” suggested Skye, trying to smile innocently. “That wouldn’t hurt, don’t you think?”

“Stop trying to be a matchmaker Skye, I’m perfectly satisfied with my current life. Really, remember when you thought that tricking me into a date with Sitwell would be such a great idea? Do you remember how it ended?”

“Ugh, we promised not to go back to that one. Okay, okay, calm down, Simmons. I’m not telling you to go and marry Fitz or even to go and ask him on a date. I’m just saying that it could be a good idea to spend some time together, get to know him better,” she prompted while looking pointedly at Simmons. “Nothing harmful in that.”

Simmons was just staring at her, trying to look strict, to show her that there was no possibility of a side romance during a work project. It got harder, thought, when she remembered Fitz’s eyes shining with excitement when he was drawing modifications on the blueprints. There was something...appealing in this memory that was disturbing the stern mask she was trying to hold on her face.

“Not to mention that you guys are perfect for each other and would make such a cute couple,” Skye murmured loud enough for Simmons to hear.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Paint It Black" by The Rolling Stones


	3. Where is your boy tonight?

This was just an opportunity, and a perfectly reasonable one. It was only logical for Simmons to take her pamphlet about the science exhibit and go to Fitz to share the news. It was something he would surely be interested in, maybe enough to join her, so they could exchange some new ideas and work on their cooperation. All in all, she was just being friendly. The plan was perfectly composed and she was really pleased with herself for thinking of it.

“Sorry, I can’t,” came his reply after he looked at the pamphlet. “I’m busy this evening.”

“Oh.” _That_ was not a part of her plan. Why had she not taken this into consideration? “Oh, of course. Sure, I understand. Um...what about tomorrow then?”

“I’ve already got plans for then too.” He scraped a hand across his jaw and furrowed his brows, apology written all over his face.

“And the day after tomorrow?” she tried again, not knowing what was pushing her to be so persistent. She could go alone, she was an adult woman, fully capable of getting there by herself. After all, that’s what she usually did in similar situations. But going with Fitzseemed so much better, and she just couldn’t bring herself to give up on it, not yet.  

He shook his head.

“Weekend?” she tried again.

“The whole weekend is off limits too. Sorry, but unless it’s before 7pm, there’s no way for me to go.”

She looked at the pamphlet again, hoping that the start time of 9 pm would by some miracle turn into something else, like 6 or even 5:30. It didn’t, and she sighed.

“Well, maybe next time, then.”

“Sure,” he smiled at her. “Maybe try convincing Skye. And let me know how it is.”

She nodded, trying not to look disappointed, because she really had no reason to be. They’d know each other for three weeks, and true, with each day she was more and more convinced that she had never met anyone who would understand her and her passion for science as well as Fitz seemed to do, but that was not a reason to go all sulky just because he wasn’t going to the science exhibition with her. After all, she was already very used to going there alone.

Still, she would have gladly welcomed a break from that tradition.

She was noticeably less cheerful when she was putting on her coat that afternoon after work, preparing to go back home.

“What’s up Simmons?” Skye’s concern was evident the moment she saw Simmons waiting for her near the exit.

“Nothing,” she lied, but Skye was not convinced.

“Fitz declined your date invitation?” she guessed.

“For the hundredth time, I was not asking him out on a date, Skye. I simply proposed a nice evening together to get to know each other better during a nice science exhibition So that we can cooperate better in the future. For the sake of the whole company”

“Sure. Everything purely in the name of successful work. And he said _no_?”

“Apparently he is busy after 7pm.”

“Well, find something that starts earlier.”

“But the exhibit starts at 9pm,” Simmons whined. “There’s no way for us to go together.”

“Not everything must be about science, Simmons.” Skye stopped in her tracks and looked around. “Look, let me teach you a trick.” She turned and went back inside the building, Simmons following her out of curiosity.

“Hey, Fitz!” Skye shouted and waved at him the moment she spotted him coming out of the building with the rest of employees. “We’re going for a drink, wanna join us?”

“Right now?” He looked at them, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Sure, why not,” he shrugged. “I still have some time to kill.”

“Okay then,” Skye smiled. “Let’s go to the karaoke bar!”

It was better than the last time Skye dragged her there, maybe because it was still early so the bar was not crowded yet. Maybe it was because this time, she wanted to go. Maybe it was because this time Skye wasn’t constantly nagging her to have fun. Maybe it was because Fitz was sitting next to her and drawing schematics on his napkin while she was talking about other possibilities for them to consider before they would start testing their prototype.

Skye tried to convince them to move from their spot and join her in singing, but Simmons was not interested and Fitz didn’t let her convince him either, so they were just sitting there, drinking beer and talking, oscillating between work-related topics and some unimportant, more personal details. Skye was waving her feet in the rhythm of the music, even though nobody was singing yet, while Simmons was drinking her beer quietly.

“ _In a couple of years they have built a home, sweet home_ ,” Fitz sang under his breath along with the tune coming from the empty stage. “ _With a couple of kids running in the yard_ ,” he added, a small smile blooming on his face when he stopped drawing and twirled with his pen for a moment, while looking absent-mindly into space, humming all the time.

“I think we could change the material in here.” Simmons pointed at one part of the design and Fitz looked at it, furrowing his brow in concentration.

“Okay guys, enough is enough,” Skye hit the table with the palm of her hand. “In case you two haven’t noticed, we’re out of work now, so no more working in a bar. A bar is for drinking and entertainment, not moping around a project.”

“We’re not moping! We’re having a breakthrough, Skye.”

“Which will still be there tomorrow, in the lab. Now let’s have fun and talk about stuff that has nothing to do with work.”

Silence was her only reply when the two scientists looked at her, their faces indicating that they were not really sure what was expected of them.

“We can sing something together and make a show like a group of old friends?” Skye suggested. They both looked at each other in horror. “Or we can drink beer like a band of boring, average people.”

“I’ll bring you some,” Fitz suggested while folding his napkin and hiding it inside his pocket.

“Just don’t run away!” Skye shouted after him when he went to the bar and turned to Simmons, lowering her voice. “Come on Simmons, you have the opportunity, use it!”

“What?” Jemma looked at her, confused.

“Talk with him!”

“I _was_ talking with him, Skye, until you told us to stop,” she pointed out.

“You were talking about your project. You won’t get to know him if all you talk about is which components he wants to use. Ask him something personal, bat your eyelashes, do something.”

“He’s checking his watch all the time, have you noticed?” Simmons tried to change the topic.

“Nervous habit? Does it matter?”

“He never does it in the lab, but he is here. Every few minutes. I think he’s not really enjoying our company.”

“Like, he’s bored? Well, you were talking about chemistry, instead of making it, and that’s not one catching subject if you ask me.”

“No, that’s not it,” Simmons shook her head. “And remember? He said he’s busy in the evening. I think he doesn’t want to be late.” She nodded a little, thinking about all the evidence she’d seen by now. “And every other evening too.” She stopped talking for a moment and looked at Skye with sudden realisation. “I think he has a girlfriend.”

Skye was not moved by this revelation.

“Yes, because obviously if a guy checks his watch that must mean he has a girlfriend,” she deadpanned, but smiled after a second. “But I like how the idea has made you all nervous, that’s a good sign.” She bent over the table and ruffled Simmon’s hair playfully. “It’s so cute that I will even be a good friend and investigate this a little, just for you.”

“What? How are you-”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask him.”

“Are you insane? You can’t do this, Skye. Really, you can’t-”

“What she can’t do?” asked Fitz, coming back with three beers in his hands.

“She said that I can’t sing 'Living On A Prayer' because it’s a guy song and the bar is almost empty.” Skye smiled and stood from her seat. “And I’m telling her, watch and learn.”

"You're gonna sing?" he asked. "Can I join? It's a really good song."

"Yes, sure," Skye  waved her hand in an inviting gesture. "Let's go then."

"What about you, Simmons?" He looked at her and she almost choked on her beer.

"No, I'm really not the singing type," she excused herself while mentally cursing her clumsiness.

"There's nobody else in here," he pointed out, trying to encourage her.

"Still, I'd rather not sing. I'll just sit here and listen. That's fine, really," she tried to reassure him. She succeeded since he nodded and followed Skye.

Still, somehow, when she was looking at them both having fun and singing, she wished for a moment that she could be more relaxed, more courageous, more outgoing. That she could just go and join them like it was not a big deal, instead of sitting alone by the table and drinking beer, waiting for them to come back.

She sighed, coming to terms with the fact she was the way she was and decided to enjoy herself instead of being pessimistic. So she looked at them again and smiled at the way they were performing, confusing the notes from time to time and changing the tune when they felt like it.

" _Take my hand, we'll make it I swear_ ," Fitz sang while Skye got lost in the lyrics for a moment. Simmons had to admit that he had quite a nice voice. Not really outstanding, but still somehow pleasant. And his imperfections certainly weren't stopping him from singing and enjoying himself. Really, it was a good performance. It was a shame she was the only one to see and appreciate their show.

“Regretting that you didn’t come with us?” Skye asked, a little out of breath when she came back to the table and sat next to her. Another song started playing in the background.

“Not at all, I had too much fun watching you two,” she smiled over her beer. “It would be a shame if such an act went unnoticed and died in silence.”

Fitz just smiled, humming along with the tune while Skye laughed.

“One day you will be the one singing and I will be the one mocking your voice,” Skye mock-threatened with a smile.

“I really doubt that.” Simmons raised her beer. “I’ll never be this drunk and desperate for attention.”

“So, you’re saying,” Fitz tried to clarify. “That there’s absolutely no possibility of us both convincing you to just sing with us?”

“Me?” She laughed at that possibility. “No, no, I’m not the singing, having-fun-in-karaoke type. No singing in front of so many people.”

Fitz looked around, demonstrating how undoubtedly _empty_ the place was. Simmons just shrugged.

“Nobody would laugh at your skills, promise,” he tried to reassure her.

‘It’s not that. It just feels…too exposed. The song you’re choosing, the lyrics of it. They say a lot about you, don’t you think? There’s a reason for choosing a particular song. And then everybody’s listening to your message.”

“Well then, the way you look at it, it’s a good way to say something important. For me it’s more about fun.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but return it shyly.

“So, I’ll find you a song about lab safety,” Skye cut in. “Or about famous female chemists. Would you sing about that?”

“Ugh, Skye,” Simmons rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t work like that, and you know it!”

She started listing other arguments and Skye kept messing with her while Fitz lost interest in their argument and focused on the music instead.

“ _Here I am, once again_ ,” he sang under his breath a while later. “ _I’m smiling and peaceful._ ”

“One day, mark my words.” Skye was too into the conversation to drop the topic. “One day you will be singing, and I’ll be sitting here drinking my beer, laughing and making a video to show your future children.”

“No way. You won’t be able to drink and laugh at the same time, not to mention hold a camera.” Simmons pointed out.

“ _Can’t deny it, can’t pretend,_ ” Fitz continued the song. “ _Convinced you are the one._ ”

“Fitz,” Skye tore her eyes away from Simmons. “What are you doing?”

“Singing?” He looked at her, surprised. “At karaoke?”

“That's not how this song goes. Look at the screen if you don't know the lyrics!” Skye waved in the general direction of the stage and screen.

“But that's how it should go!” Fitz protested, straightening his back in an instant. “Really, we all have enough problems in our lives, no need to listen to Clarkson's whining over her ex-boyfriend. This is supposed to be for entertainment, not psychotherapy.”

“Oh really?” Skye smiled slyly. “You never felt like whining over your poor heart being broken by some chick?”

“Nah,” Fitz twisted his face, lifting a corner of his lip and shaking his head in denial. “Not really.”

“So, you’re lucky in the relationship department?” Skye smiled innocently while throwing Simmons a meaningful look.

“I’m just not one to complain. In a song. About my personal life.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Songs are supposed to be for fun and the audience, not for letting the singer’s steam off.”

“Well, that’s one interesting way to look at it,” Skye admitted.

“Anyway, it was nice to spend some time with you two, but I have to go now,” Fitz said pointing at his watch.

“Stay longer, we’re just getting started here,” Skye protested. “Whatever you planned, just call and say you’ll be late.”

“That’s not really an option.”

“I see,” Skye nodded in understanding. “Seeing your girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one. I’m going to work.”

“We’ve just finished work.”

“I have another one,” he informed them, standing up and taking his jacket.

“Oh.” Simmons straightened in excitement, wondering which engineering company let him work at such a late hour. Maybe some overseas enterprise and remote projects? “Where?”

“Pizza delivery,” he said matter-of-factly.

“No, really, what are you doing?” Now Skye was curious too.

“Delivering pizza. Really.”

“You have two PhDs  in engineering, you work for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s science department and after hours you are delivering pizza? Come on, that’s a really bad cover lie.” Skye shook her head while Simmons just looked at him confused.

“There’s not a lot of jobs where you can work for 18 hours per week and start after the normal working period.” He shrugged. “It’s not hard and the pay is fine.”

They both looked at him with disbelief clouding their eyes.

“If you don’t believe me, order pizza, and you’ll see, I’m delivering in this area. But now I really have to go. See you tomorrow,” he waved and went to the exit, leaving the two of them alone.

“See,” Skye said after he left. “No girlfriend.”

“Subtle,” Simmons twisted her lips.

“Anything for you, sweetie” Skye smiled and Simmons tried to glare at her. “Oh, don’t tell me you aren’t relieved by the answer!”

Simmons tried to, but really couldn’t, so she just kicked Skye under the table.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from another Fall Out Boy song titled... "Where Is Your Boy Tonight?". Surprise!


	4. Tommy used to work on the docks (pt 1)

“And I just don’t understand.” Skye sniffled loudly into the tissue that Simmons helpfully handed her. “I mean, he looked like such a good guy. A little too closed-up and not too much into showing emotions of any kind, but I thought that we were good for each other, you know?” She looked at Simmons, who just nodded with compassion. “I thought that I was getting to him, that I made him want to be a better person. That he could change for better, be more open, more sincere, not so guarded all the time. I was so stupid to even think that!” She exploded into sobs again. “And now look, he is just a jerk who doesn’t care at all! I should have known better,” she choked and tried to calm herself, to no avail. “I should have seen the signs and run away as far as I could! I should have told him that he’s a worthless waste of space, or-”

“Skye, it didn’t work out, it happens.” Simmons tried to comfort her roommate and stop her from switching into rage at the same time. “You can’t blame yourself or be so harsh to someone just because it didn’t worked out.” She gave her a spoonfull of ice cream, worrying that there wasn’t much left.

“No, I’m serious, Simmons.” Skye stopped sobbing and grabbed her arm. “All men are bastards, stay as far away from them as you can.”

“I will, Skye.” Simmons nodded in agreement and rolled her eyes where Skye couldn’t see her. Just a few days ago, Skye had been babbling about how Simmons and her lab partner should drop the “lab” part from their relationship description. “I definitely will.”

“They have no heart. They just wait for the occasion to hurt us.” Apparently Skye had decided that it was a good moment to share all of her life’s wisdom.

“Mmm-hmm.” Simmons patted Skye’s hair.

“You can’t let them. You let them close for one second, and they catch you and crush you, until there’s nothing but pain left.”

“I know, I know. You know what?” Simmons moved away, just enough to be able to look Skye in the face. “Let’s order some food. We will treat ourselves and eat something unhealthy. Whatever you want. What would you like? Chinese? More ice cream? Some fancy French takeaway? Hamburgers from fast food?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere!” Skye whined and tried to bury herself in the sofa. “I’m not leaving this flat!”

“Okay, we don’t have to go out, we can order something. What do you propose?”

“Pizza. I want pizza. With double cheese and a lot of olives. And bacon. And strawberries. Strawberries are good and pizza is good, so together they will be even better! Like a perfect couple...”

“Strawberries and bacon?” Simmons furrowed her brow, trying not to imagine the taste of that combination. “Are you sure?”

“You said I can have whatever I want,” Skye groaned. “And now you want to manipulate me into ordering something I don’t want, just because you think I don’t suit your tastes?!”

“Strawberries and bacon it is then.” Simmons hurried to take her phone out. “Great choice, I’m sure it will be delicious.” At least she hadn’t asked for pickles and whipped cream.

There was only one pizzeria in town that was famous for serving every topping a customer could imagine and as so would have strawberries. Jemma found the right number in her contact list and waited while the phone rang, until she heard a man asking for her order. She listed the ingredients and added a simple pepperoni pizza too, just in case Skye regained her wits in the immediate future. The wait was not long, just the standard 30 minutes, but by that time Skye had somehow managed tostop crying and focus on “he’s not worth me, I’m getting over him, I’m getting over all guys” part of her catharsis. Simmons was still listening carefully and nodding, thinking hopefully that maybe, just maybe, the night wouldn’t  be as long as she assumed at first. When the doorbell finally rang, she rushed to open it, her body craving food and some distraction.

She opened the door in one fast move, not bothering to look through the peephole.

On the other side was Fitz in black pants and polo T-shirt, a full pizza delivery uniform. with a nice smelling warming bag in his hands, smiling widely like a child on Christmas morning.

"Your pizza order is here," he started cheerfully, then stopped when his brain finally caught up with his eyes. "Simmons?" He dropped the smile and the friendly tone immediately.

"Hi." She waved her hand lamely and gaped at him for a second, suddenly aware that she waswearing sweat pants that had lost their colour a good while ago, and her university’s hoodie that had too-short sleeves after one unfortunate laundry mistake. She had tied her hair back messily in a bun that had neither shape nor appeal and her face was completely free of makeup. Reminding herself that she had to somehow act cool and not let her nerves eat her alive, she tried to do just that. She just had to take pizza from him, give him money, throw in some politeness, say goodbye and lock the door, and then she could die from embarrassment. She just had to think of something smooth to say. She was sure that she could handle this; after all, her brain had gotten her out of way worse situations.

“I have your pizza.” Fitz showed her the box.

“Thanks,” she smiled weakly, trying desperately to think of something to say. “Maybe you could come in and stay a while?” She blurted the first thing that came to her mind and thought how, of course, her brain had to completely fail her this one time. “We have ice cream that’s almost finished and... pizza.” Apparently her mind had decided to boycott thinking.

“I know, double cheese, olives, bacon and strawberries, followed by plain pepperioni,” he grinned. “You’re on our ‘memorable order’ board. Detronised five types of cheese, omelette and peanut butter, which was on top for straight three months.”

“Fitz!” Skye sniffled, appearing in the doorway to the living room. “What was that smiley face about?”

“Oh, that.” He smiled in a way he normally did, gentle and warm. “Tip bait,” he pointed at his face moving his lips to form a bright, cheerful smile. “It’s surprisingly effective.”

“You’re funny,” Skye laughed and Simmons smiled, relieved that her friend had finally stopped being mopey. “You’re almost not a guy at all,” Skye raised her thumb in approval. “So you can stay and cry with us.”

“Well, this is the strangest compliment I’ve gotten in a while,” he admitted. “And I was delivering to some strange older ladies with way too many cats. As lovely as it sounds though, I can’t, I have to go back to work.”

“You don’t have to do anything!” Skye rushed into the hall. “You’re a free man and can do whatever you want to do. Call your boss!”

“What?”

“Call your boss right now!”

“But why?”

“Because I’m telling you to! I am your client and you have to do as I say, so call your boss. I want to place a complaint.”

“Okay...” Fitz fished for his phone for a moment, deciding not to argue with an infuriated woman. He took it out, pushed a few buttons and listened for a while. “Hi, it’s me. A client wants to talk with you. Yes. Yes. No, I didn’t. Yes, I know. Here.” He gave it to Skye.

“Hello there, Fitz’s boss,” she started talking and twirled around. “Here’s the deal. We just received our order, but Simmons and I are really, really appreciating your service and we would like to hang out with Fitz, and since you are such a great guy and a perfect boss, you’ll let him sit here with us and call him if there’s a delivery to be done. So he can, you know, do his job and come back to us. Sounds fair?” She waited expectantly for an answer.

Amused laughter was the first reply she got, soon followed by:

“Sure, why not. Just make sure he’s not eating too much junk food. It’s bad for his health,” came a deep, nice voice.

“Said the manager of a pizza company,” Skye laughed. “But yeah, I’ll keep an eye on him. Thanks!” She gave Fitz’s phone back.

“It’s me again,” he said to the mobile. “Oh. Really? No, sure, okay. Yeah, I’ll remember. Bye.” He hung up and looked at them, slightly taken aback. “He agreed,” he said, like he still couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Indeed,” Skye smiled slightly which was so far from her normal, ear to ear smile, that Simmons wanted to drop everything and just hug her.

“Well then, I guess I will stay,” Fitz shrugged and crossed over the doorstep.

“Yay!” Skye's voice was just a shadow of her usual cheerfulness, but it was still good progress.

They all sat on the sofa in front of the TV and flipped through the channels until they found something that Skye enjoyed. It appeared to be a singing contest, so Fitz was gladly humming along with the participants after only a few minutes, his mouth full of pizza, apparently doing it purely out of habit. Skye was sitting next to him, commenting loudly on the contestants’ dresses and make up while Simmons was trying to find where she belonged in this strange situation, sitting on the other side of the sofa.

“ _Sparkling angel, I believe you are my saviour,_ ” came the first line of the next song.

“Oh, no, not this one, change the channel,” Fitz waved at Skye, who was still holding the remote. “Change the channel, I can’t listen to this song.”

“Why?” Simmons didn’t understand his sudden outburst of disapproval.

“It's completely unfixable.” He waved at Skye more insistently. “Really, it’s a shitty song, you literally can't fix it and the meaning is awful.”

“The meaning?”

“It's about a sociopath.”

“A while ago, you were happily singing 'Crush' by Garbage,” Skye pointed out.

“It's a nice song," he shrugged.

“It's about a psycho stalker.”

“But he's in love and wants to help his crush every way he can. That's not a bad thing in most cases.”

“Really?” Skye clearly wanted to continue the discussion, but Fitz waved at the remote control again.

“Just change the channel,” he pleaded and Simmons took the device out of Skye’s hand, pressing the button and switching to MTV.

“Here you go," she smiled at him, and he nodded in appreciation.

“Fine,” Skye agreed. “But we go back to my show after three minutes, the song will be over by then.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Sounds fair.” Fitz grinned widely at the screen, where an old song had just started. “See, this is a good song,” he pointed out. “ _I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I'm sure,_ ” he started singing, smiling all the time. “Come on, join me, everyone knows this song! _And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door._ ”

“Hey, some of us are heartbroken here!” Skye protested, but when Fitz kept nudging her with his elbow, still singing, she just smiled a little and rolled her eyes at Simmons, silently asking her for back up.

“ _I’m walking on sunshine,_ ” Simmons sang in response and held her hands up in a ‘don’t expect help from me’ sign. She tried to sing the rest but couldn’t hold the tune with the wild smile spreading on her face at the sight of the other two occupants of the sofa: Fitz fooling around and Skye not being able to remain gloomy and sad and regaining some of her usual positive energy. It was really a good thing that he was there. Simmons alone wouldn’t have been able to get Skye back into form in such a short time. Maybe he was a little strange, and he had his quirks, but all in all he seemed like a good guy, and she was grateful for his help.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Living On a Prayer" by Bon Jovi


	5. Tommy used to work on the docks (pt2)

After a few minutes of watching MTV, Skye changed the channel back to ‘The Voice’ and Simmons sang quietly along with the singer to ‘Keep Holding On’ while Fitz was preparing tea for all of them. Skye tried to join her, but by the end of the song she was practically strangling Jemma in an embrace, the lyrics long forgotten when she was thanking Simmons for taking care of her and being such a good friend. Jemma tried to calm her down with gentle pats on her hair.

It took a moment for Skye to come back from her sudden emotional pit and it took Fitz singing with ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ while comically changing voices to get them both back to laughing to the point where they were almost rolling on the floor, but by that time Skye was practically over her blahs. They sat on the couch watching the TV and enjoying the calmness of the evening while drinking their tea that had cooled down by then.

Simmons threw a look at Skye, who now seemed less energetic and more serene. She looked up at Fitz, who was relaxed and lazily smiling, watching the screen and humming quietly from time to time. He seemed to fit there ridiculously well, with his uniform and sandy curls and carefree expression, just sitting on her sofa on a Saturday evening. It was strange, how easily he found a way into her life, like he just went and fell into place smoothly. Almost like it was always there, just waiting for him to appear and fill it. She knew she should probably stop staring before he noticed it, but it was hard to stop thinking about her hypothesis. Why would someone who was there by pure accident, whom she barely knew, who was supposed to be working right now instead of watching a stupid singing competition, look like he completely belonged and even should be there? How come she had only known him for a month and a half and she already considered him a friend? She shook her head, thinking herself a fool. She was simply tired and grateful for the help in handling Skye. Simply happy that, thanks to Fitz, the evening turned out to not be as disastrous as she was expecting it to be. Relieved that in spite of her initial worries, they seemed to get along well enough for their future work collaboration to go smoothly.

Another singer stepped onto the stage and started singing. This time it was ‘Heavy In Your Arms’ and after a while, Fitz joined in.

“ _And he took me to the river stubbornly holding me close,_ ” he sang, yet again ignoring the original lines of the song.

“Why do you change the lyrics?” Simmons couldn’t hold back that question anymore. It had happened too many times already, and she quite liked that song. “It’s such a beautiful song about love, loss and tragedy! You’re ruining it!”

“I’m the one ruining things?” He looked really surprised by her accusation. “Oh, sure, it always has to be sad to get attention and be called ‘deep’ and ‘meaningful’,” he scoffed while looking at her. He bent a little to bring himself closer to her, talking with more and more emotion in his voice. “Because apparently, there’s nothing interesting in optimistic stuff. No, happiness, true happiness is simply boring for others. Fall Out Boy was wrong, everybody wants to hear songs about tragedy. If there’s no pain or hurt, nobody would find it interesting, right? And it’s not only in the songs, it’s the same everywhere: in TV shows, books, movies, every bit of the entertainment industry. It can’t be just a story about two people meeting and falling in love, living happily, no, there has to be a Big Tragic Obstacle, a... a sinking ship, or.. fighting families, or...”

“Memory loss!” Skye supplied with enthusiasm while patting Fitz on the arm, trying to take his attention away from Simmons.

“No, _The Vow_ is actually a very optimistic and happy film.” He shook his head in disagreement. “Inspired by a true story, which just adds to it’s value.”

“I wasn’t talking about this movie, I was talking about _The Notebook_ , silly.”

“Oh.” Fitz nodded smoothly, changing his train of thought, leaving the previous topic in favour of the new one. “I haven’t seen that one. Don’t want to, really. Everyone cries at it, doesn’t look very encouraging. My point is- there’s nothing beautiful in sad things like loss and tragedy.”

“Let’s watch it!” Simmons proposed earnestly. “We’ve been watching this show for almost an hour already.”

“No,” Skye protested. “We must see who will go to the next round.”

“Okay, but after that, let’s watch something.”

“No romantic stuff, though,” Skye pointed out, and Simmons nodded. “Deal,” she smiled.

They waited for the results just to hear that the winner was the women singing ‘Angels’, at which Fitz groaned in frustration, which forced Simmons and Skye to try very hard to conceal their chuckles. Then they started watching some comedy they found, something about an average office worker suddenly becoming a spy and Simmons and Fitz raced against each other in pointing out every improbable thing they could find in the plot, every scientific inaccuracy to the point that Skye dared them to remain silent for a whole five minutes, since she “couldn’t understand their science babble and participate”.

They didn’t manage to hold on that long, and Skye growled and went to the kitchen to raid the fridge. She was back after a few minutes with a bowl of cereal and a large jug of smoothie, telling Fitz how they were not expecting a movie marathon so there was no stock of chips or coke in the kitchen. Somehow, by the time she entered the room there was more space between Simmons and the edge of the sofa than there was on Skye’s previous spot between Fitz and Simmons. She just stopped for a while, smiled while placing the bowl and jar on the coffee table and sat in the free space. Neither of them seemed to notice nor care.

* * *

 

“I’m back,” Fitz shouted the moment he crossed the door of his workplace.

“How have you been?” came the reply from his boss’ tiny office. “Did you have a good night?”

“No orders the whole night?” Fitz entered the small room and looked at the smiling man behind the desk. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, don’t blame me if you had a bad night!” He raised his hands to prove his innocence, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “I did everything I could.”

“Everything you could for what, Trip?”

“I don’t know, being a good person? Come on, I’m not as smart as you but I’m not blind or deaf. That Simmons chick who the one talking with me mentioned, that was the one you kept talking about, right? The one from work. And who’s your best wing man now?” His smile was even brighter now. “But you are getting no extra tips tonight, you got your fair share of good things for one day.”

“You got it all wrong.” Fitz shook his head.

“Yeah, sure,” Trip didn’t look convinced at all. “Stop talking nonsense and try your luck with her, you clearly like her.”

“And where did you got this idea from?”

“Your constant admiring speeches about her are quite a good clue.” He scrapped his jaw in fake thought. “And the way you’re so enthusiastic and excited every time you mention how you two will be working together for a few months after the start of practical stage of your project. That was another lead. You should stop babbling and ask her out already.”

“It’s not so simple.” Fitz sighed and looked away, tightening his fists slightly.

“And why not?”

“Because stories like this end well only in movies and songs.”

“You _make_ them end well.” Trip was still smiling but this time his cheerfulness was replaced by gentle reassurance. “You fix the broken parts when you notice them and make the whole thing work.”

Fitz just shook his head and turned away to leave.

“And you owe me the other girl’s phone number,” Trip shouted after him with a broad smile. “I’ve done you a favour!”

“You have her home address on the order,” Fitz shouted without even turning back.  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is referring to Fall Out Boy song "Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes". There's a line there: "Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy" which was also an inspiration for this fic's title.


	6. If you're ever in trouble I’ll be there at the double

The presentation was a tool to torture scientists, invented by people who were unable to understand basic math, as a means of bloody and cruel revenge, Simmons decided, reading her notes for the fifteenth time that morning.

“Stop it Simmons, it will be all right.” Skye was sitting in her lab, not even trying to pretend that she was working.

“It’s really important.” Simmons didn’t even tear her eyes away from her notes. “And they just told me about it two days ago, I haven’t had enough time to prepare for it properly.”

“You will do good, you should try and relax right now,” Skye pointed out.

“I will, when it’s over. This presentation is crucial for the board to decide how much funds they will give for the expansion of the project Fitz and I are working on.”

“Yes, but you’ve told me many times before that this project is brilliant, so there’s nothing to worry about. Stop it. Focus on something else. Like, for example, how handsome do you find Fitz on the scale from 0 to 10?”

“What?” Simmons turned to Skye abruptly. “What kind of question is that? I’ll not be judging my... my coworker like that.”

“Oh, come on Simmons,” Skye rolled her eyes. “You don’t invite other coworkers to exhibits, you don’t talk with them for hours about stupid things and you certainly don’t sit as close to them as you did to Fitz when we were watching movies. Don’t tell me you don’t like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s a very likeable person.” She turned back to her paper, not wanting to look at Skye.

“And that's all? He's just a likeable person?”

“Well, he's smart too,” Simmons added after a moment.

“Yes, because that's what's most important when talking about attraction.” Skye rolled her eyes and tried to distract Simmons even more, but her friend was too occupied with her notes and trying to avoid her eyes to pay her attention.

They sat in the lab in silence for a while, until the door opened to reveal Fitz with two steaming mugs in his hands.

“You're still going through your notes?” He looked at Simmons and shook his head.

“I want it to be perfect,” she told him when he came closer.

“It will be. I've made you tea.” He gave her a mug and sat on a free chair. “So just drink it and leave your notebook alone for a moment.”

“Thanks,” she said, touched by his nice gesture.

“Sorry Skye, I didn’t think you'd be here, so I didn't bring you any,” he apologised.

“No problem.” Skye dismissed his concern. “I prefer coffee anyway.”

Simmons put her notes down and took a sip of her warm beverage, wondering how he managed to know how she liked her tea. Sure, it was a little too sweet, but the blend and milk proportion were just perfect. And it was nice that he cared to come by before the presentation to see how she was doing. Of course, it was his project too, but since he was not employed on full-time contract, it wouldn't have such a huge impact on his career. But, if she handled things right, maybe he could get a little more profit from their project too.

The three of them sat there, talking about things as simple as the weather and as complicated as accelerating gas spread tempo, and somehow her stomach stopped feeling like an achy ball of nerves. For a moment she forgot that in a few hours she would have to stand before the board and all the important people from the company and tell them why they should give her more money.

* * *

 

Simmons was cursing at herself, her mind unable to remember anything, her hands shaky as she tried to find anything useful in her notes, forgetting where she had put the information she now needed. She was perfectly aware of the board watching her, of their bored faces, of the quiet whispers passing between them. She was trying to think of an argument, anything simple enough for them to understand that it was a great idea to give her more funds, since the reasons she had given so far were dismissed with bored looks and uninterested eyes. She’d told them about every scientific reason she could think of, but she might as well have been speaking Chinese to them. She’d started the presentation believing that the project had good prospects, and should be further developed, but now, judging by the board’s reaction she was afraid that they would close it altogether.

“So, what you are saying, Doctor Simmons,” Callie Hannigan’s voice ripped her away from her terrified inner world. “Is that you can't guarantee that the project will succeed and could be applied anywhere apart from specialist hospitals, but you still need a fund increase and more time for development?”

“Well, uhm.” That didn't sound good at all, but she couldn’t deny that it was the truth. Technically. “Well, we could, maybe, make it work in some other fields but the production process will be quite expensive, so I'm not sure if the product will be affordable to... to apply it to everyday use,” she mumbled, and saw immediately in their faces that it was not the right answer. “I... Yes, I think that would be all.” She decided to end her humiliation. “I have, uhm, the simulation of the final product after proposed upgrades, but I, um, I’ve left it in my lab.” She tightened her fingers on a flash drive containing the simulation, trying not to let the lie show on her face. “So if you’ll excuse me,” she started moving towards the back door. “I will just go get it and… and be back in a few minutes.”

 _Or never_ , she added in her mind, opening the door and practically bursting out of the room. She was walking faster and faster, until she was running through the corridors, trying to find some place where she could be alone and able to curl into a ball and cry without being seen.

She found an empty staircase and sat on one of the steps, hiding her face in her hands and trying to hold back the tears that had started forming in her eyes. She had known it would end like that. It always ended like that, she had been preparing and preparing and then people started asking questions she was not prepared for and she couldn't handle it. Now she’d ruined everything, they would close the project and send her to work in the canteen, where she would spend the rest of her days asking people if they wanted meatballs with or without the sauce.

“Simmons?” She heard a voice form above and looked up to see Fitz’s concerned face.

 _Oh dear Lord_ , she thought. He must be really furious with her, given that he’d followed her. If they closed the project he would be practically unemployed, and it would be all her fault. Here she was, thinking that they could be friends, and now she had gotten him fired.

“I'm so sorry,” she choked, afraid of what he would say to her. If he would even be speaking, instead of shouting at her.

“For what?” He furrowed his brows in confusion, and she was no longer able to stop her tears from falling. “Hey, don't cry.” He sat on the stairs next to her. “It's okay, you did great.”

“Oh, please,” she whined. She didn’t need his lies.

“Well, it wasn't a perfect presentation, but you told them everything they need to know. It's not your fault they don't get it. It's Hand's and Hannigan’s fault for asking idiotic questions. I mean, seriously, who cares if we can’t apply it in the sports industry, it's not so popular anymore. Calm down, everything will be okay.” He patted her arm reassuringly.

“They’ll close the project,” she sobbed. “All because of me! Because I can't even make a stupid presentation work!”

“No, they won't. Everything will be all right, you just need to stop crying and show them the simulation.”

“No, I'm not going back there. I’m never going back, I’ll start a folk band and travel around,” she choked. “I just ruined everything, they think I'm an idiot and Hannigan will never stop laughing at me.” She hid her face in her hands again, unable to conceal her panic anymore.

“Don't say that,” Fitz said, moving closer. “Hey! Hey, stop crying.” He reached for her arm and give it a light squeeze, and without thinking she just leaned into him and he circled his arms around her, letting her put her head against his shoulder and enclosing her in a comforting hug. “It will be all right, you’ll see. It's not a big deal, really. Nothing happened, you just have to calm down a little and show them this astonishing simulation you prepared. They will be amazed, you will see.”

“They don't care anymore, they won't even want to see it,” she sniffled.

“Actually, they do.” Fitz stroked her hair lightly. “I've told them that we can make it work for rehabilitation therapy, if they let us add the part altering the pressure that you thought about. We can use it in the entertainment industry too, if we make a model without most of the more advanced functions. All in all, they are quite excited about it. They’re all waiting for you to come back,” he added while patting her back lightly.

“I’ll just ruin things more.”

“You won’t. You’ll be great. You’re brilliant and if they haven’t noticed it by now, they are a band of blind and deaf fools.”

“What if they close the project?” She wriggled, trying to hide her face in his soft cardigan.

“Well, I guess we will have to go to some other company and sell the patent to them,” he smiled. “They will probably pay us much more than S.H.I.E.L.D., probably we should have started with that.”

She laughed, because really, he should have been furious at her, not smiling reassuringly and making jokes. She wondered what had she done to deserve such an enormous amount of support from him.

“So, you're going back there?” he asked, moving away just a little, to see her face.

She nodded lightly and moved away.

“Yes. I just have to go to the bathroom and fix my makeup,” she said, wiping the tears from her face.

“You don't have to, you always look pretty,” he told her, sitting straight and smiling gently at her.

“No, I don't,” she laughed, feeling warm at the compliment. “Oh,” she looked at him. “I ruined your cardigan.” She pointed at the mascara stains she had left in the material when she was crying into it.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” he waved his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “It wasn't looking so good to start with.” Well, she would have to strongly disagree with that, if he ever asked. “And I can just take it off. Come on, we have a presentation to finish.”

She nodded and looked at him.

“Thanks, Fitz,” she whispered, looking into his bright blue eyes.

“I didn’t do anything,” he shrugged. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

It took her another few minutes to look presentable again, but finally she came back to the conference room and apologised for making them wait so long, excusing herself with technical problems. Fitz threw in some details, a dozen of long, polysyllabic specialistic words that looked like an explanation but only made the board too confused to check exactly how long she was out. After a moment she started displaying the simulation and explaining it to her audience. When the first question came, again from Victoria Hand, she started losing her fragile confidence for a moment, until her eyes met with Fitz’s, who was looking at her calmly and encouragingly, helping her find her words again.

* * *

 

“Yes, Simmons, very likeable and in a fully professional sense,” Skye teased. “You almost got me fooled.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simmons denied.

“I saw your cute puppy dog eyes back at the conference room. You like him. A lot.”

Simmons just sighed and rolled her eyes, somehow not so keen to talk Skye out of her mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is from "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" by Marvin Gaye ft Tammi Terrell


	7. It’s only just a crush, it’ll go away

It was funny how one tiny thing could change so much. After _the staircase incident_ Simmons started noticing more and more things about Fitz. Like how symmetrical his face was, or how the closer he was standing to her, the more trouble she had focusing on her work. She would wait impatiently each morning for him to drop by her lab with tea and just couldn’t wait for the end of the year, when they could finally work together-together, every day in the same lab, table by table. She liked how they tended to end up talking through most of their lunch breaks about the latest scientific discoveries and new episodes of TV shows, how they ran out of time for eating and yet lingered near the dining table, trying to postpone the moment when they had to go back to their separate labs as much as possible. It was amazing how when one of them mentioned a movie or a book or even a TV show they liked, they instantly found out that it was on the other’s top list too. She noticed how each time someone gave her a hard time or caused her problems with the project, he was somehow always there to back her up, and she was beyond grateful for that. Every time she was tired he was right beside her, trying to help her finish the job as soon as possible, telling her not to overwork herself. She noticed how his smile always made her feel warm and how her stomach insisted on behaving strangely each time he accidentally touched her.

Somehow Skye’s teasing was no longer so senseless to her. She still denied it every time Skye tried to make things look different than they were. Because no matter what she might want them to be, there was one tiny detail tainting the picture, making her more and more confused each time it reappeared.  

“Okay, okay,” she gave up one day, trying to keep the frustration away after another one of Skye’s not-so-innocent teasing. “I like him. So what? It’s just an interest in someone who is both intelligent and nice to me, no need to get too excited about it, Skye. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Skye looked surprised, both at Simmons’ answer and the fact that she even gave her one. “Because?”

“Because it’s just a stupid tiny crush that will go away.” She’d decided to start with the less painful part of the truth. “Things like that happen. We’re spending more time together and my biology is looking for a way to give my genes to future generations, and Fitz happens to be nice and intelligent and also geographically available since we see each other many times during the week, so this kind of... fondness appeared. It would be over after some time, no need to get excited about it or risk ruining our work by being unprofessional. And anyway, clearly he’s not interested in changing our relationship in any way, so there’s really no sense of even starting this topic, Skye.”

“And why do you think so?”

“Because he’s never acted on it,” she pointed out tiredly. Really, she’d had this conversation with herself way too many times and now she had to do it with Skye. Logic. She had to stick with her logic, it was the best approach.

“Neither have you,” Skye shrugged. “Maybe you should give him a chance. To, you know, see you outside work.”

Simmons didn’t answer, because she was not ready to tell her the truth. To admit that she might have, on some occasions, completely innocently and by accident, dropped a hint here and there. And that Fitz never bothered to pick them up.

* * *

 

“Skye?” Simmons looked cautiously inside her friend’s bedroom. “Are you asleep?”

“It's 6.30 Simmons, of course I am,” Skye growled  from her bed. “What do you want?”

“I was just wondering...” she started while entering the room on her tiptoes. Skye moved her covers away. She’d known Simmons for a long while and she recognised that tone. She wouldn’t go away until she spit out what was on her mind. “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

“No, I don't. But seeing that you've come all the way in here, I guess you do.”

“Well, I was just thinking. Because, you know. Thanksgiving. It's getting closer, right? And people make plans for it. Like get-togethers and other stuff.” Simmons waved her hands all around her, trying to get the point across, as if she was hoping that Skye would read her mind and spare her the trouble of voicing it.

Skye thought that if it wasn't so early, she would be really happy to see her friend getting so adorably frustrated over something. Now she was less than happy, but decided to enjoy it since sleeping was no longer an option.

“So, I've been thinking,” Simmons continued, stalling near Skye's bed. “Well, we get the day off from work. And this is a family holiday, right? I don't really celebrate American traditions and besides, my family is far away. And as you know, you don't have family, and-”

“Gee, thanks for reminder, I almost forgot,” Skye laughed, while Simmons took a terrified breath.

“Oh, that's not... I mean, you-”

“Chill, I'm messing with you. No offence taken, Whatever plan made you this nervous must be really good,” she smiled with all her teeth, watching her roommate pout. “So, what's this about?”

“Well, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but I thought that, uhm, you know, maybe we could like, invite someone? Who is not celebrating too? So that we could have fun during our free day? Nothing spectacular, just movies and the usual stuff. I just thought that we’re not celebrating Thanksgiving and I bet Fitz isn’t either, so maybe we could keep each other company that day?”

“Why am I not surprised that Fitz is involved in this plan?” Skye smiled, quite content to be awake. This was totally worth it. “Okay, that's a good idea.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, sure, invite him. It will be fun.”

* * *

 

Fitz was quite surprised to see Simmons entering his small lab before working hours even started, looking a little uncertain but smiling when she saw him looking at her.

“Hi,” she greeted him, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hi there,” he smiled at her, beause it was impossible not to do so when the day started with such a nice surprise. “What brings you here so early?”

“Well, there’s a holiday next week,” she started.

“There is?”

“Yeah, Thanksgiving. It’s a free day from work.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded with a chuckle. “I’m always forgetting about that one.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan either. I don’t actually do anything holiday-related that day, so I thought that, well, since you don’t celebrate, and I don’t celebrate, we could try not celebrating together?” she asked and bit her lip uncertainly. “Like, just hanging out, watching a movie or playing boarding games?” She scrunched her nose after she finished speaking, clearly not pleased with herself.

“Will there be turkey involved?” He tilted his head, pretending that he was weighting the pros and cons in his head, hoping it would gain him another one of her beautiful smiles.

“Absolutely not,” she assured him. “But there might be some sandwiches. Probably popcorn. Maybe even some biscuits, if I’m very bored the day before.”

It sounded really nice. Too nice. He didn’t answer right away, biting his lip in hesitation. It would be great if he could just agree, but with just the two of them it could get… complicated. And that was the last thing he should be letting himself step into.

“Skye will be there too. Since we live together,” Simmons added after a moment, just as if she was reading his mind.

“Sounds great.” He smiled wider, relieved. “I’d love to come.”

* * *

 

A few days later, Simmons was very bored. Very, very, pudding and meatloaf and cottage pie level of bored. Maybe bored was not the right word to describe the emotions pushing her to go out of her way just to make sure the food was tasty. Maybe she just wanted to make a good impression on her guest.

Maybe his impressed stomach wasn’t the only outcome of the evening she was aiming for.

She just hoped that her nerves wouldn’t eat her up completely and make her do something stupid. Skye looking at her with an unnerving smirk playing on her lips was not helpful at all and made her start questioning the whole idea over and over.

* * *

 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Fitz said, and Simmons just nodded, walking him to the apartment door. “It was a really nice evening.”

It really was. Best Thanksgiving ever and it still would be the best of all, even if it wasn’t the very first one she’d “celebrated”. They’d had a marathon of TV shows with long breaks for discussions of topics varying from plot to favourite characters, with food, laughs and sitting so close on the sofa that their arms were pressed together.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She smiled at him, thankful that Skye was smart enough not to follow them and had gone to her bedroom about 20 minutes beforehand, giving them some privacy.

“And the food was just amazing,” he added while putting his shoes on. “Really, I don’t remember when I’ve had such a good cottage pie outside of home.” His jacket followed and there he was, standing before her, fully dressed and ready to walk away.

She tried to think of something to say, to make him stay just a little bit longer, or make him realise that if he would like to invite her somewhere in return, she would gladly go anywhere, even to a baseball game or a sumo match, if it was with him.

“Do you think you’ll get some new samples on Monday?” Fitz asked, and furrowed his brows. It made her chuckle a little, because it was a really lame excuse to linger at the door. At the same time, it made her extremely happy, because he wanted to continue badly enough to ask about biology, a topic he hated with all his passion.

“I don’t know.” She dared to move just a little closer. “I’ll have to just go and find out.” Well, that hadn’t sounded as deep and filled with double meaning as she had wished it to be, but it was all her thrilled-with-excitement mind could come up with at the moment, trying to give him a clue of what she was hoping would happen next.

Fitz wasn’t moving away, which was a good sign, and he was looking at her with a strange, soft look in his eyes that made her lift her hand to touch his arm before her brain commanded it to, and for a moment she thought that he would finally get the hint and actually do something, whether it would be kissing her or asking her out or telling her she looked pretty. Anything that would move things forward.

She remained still, waiting for his next move, hoping and wishing.

“Time to go,” he said quietly, and straightened his back, his eyes losing their previous shine. He said his goodbyes, accompanied by a wave of his hand and wished her pleasant dreams.

Then he just smiled slightly at her, turned around and left, locking the door softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter’s title is from "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge
> 
> No animals were harmed in the making of this. I mean no offence to Thanksgiving tradition, but as a person born and raised in Europe I must admit that most of us don’t even know when it is and I suppose Fitz and Simmons being British would not celebrate it.


	8. If you change your mind, I’m the first in line

Simmons was making her morning tea, but her mind was wandering, not really paying attention to her automatic movements, so she didn’t even noticed when Skye entered the kitchen.

“Hi.” Skye’s voice was muffled by her loud yawn.

“Oh, hello,” Simmons turned to her roommate with polite, yet weak, smile.

“You don’t look like a person who just planned the best Thanksgiving hangout ever. What’s bothering you? Too little sleep last night?” Skye grinned widely and winked at her.

Simmons just twisted her face in irritation, incapable of finding a proper response.

“Sorry, did I go too far?” Skye noticed her friend’s upset face and the way she gripped her mug with just a little too much force.

“A little bit,” Simmons growled, failing to hide her frustration.

“Hey, what happened?” Skye moved closer, trying to come up with something helpful to say.

“Nothing! Just... nothing.” Admitting it was embarrassing for some reason and she looked down at her mug, just to avoid eye contact.

“I see,” Skye nodded slowly. “And that’s the problem.”

“No, Skye. There’s no problem. Nothing happened and there’s no problem, and there’s nothing to talk about. Nothing.”

“Come on, Simmons. Not a week ago you admitted you had a crush on him and a few days ago you forced me to get up at an ungodly hour just to ask if you could get him to come here. Don’t tell me there’s nothing to talk about.”

“But there isn’t! I’m not a teenager who would let my life be affected by some temporary, minor thing, like fancying someone. Especially when that person clearly doesn’t reciprocate.”

“Why would you assume this?” Skye, not for the first time, couldn’t really follow Simmons’ logic.

“It’s obvious!” Simmons slammed her hands on the counter, not able to bottle her emotions inside anymore. “He’s had plenty of chances to make a move and yet he has never done anything to even try changing our relationship. Even when I hint that I’d like to go somewhere, he’s never expressed interest in asking me out. I think...” She swallowed, because it was simply hard to admit it to herself, let alone say it out loud. “I think he just associates me with work and doesn’t even notice that we could… there could be a… a possibility of our relationship... going beyond friendly coworkers,” she finally spat out. It didn’t make her feel better even the tiniest bit. “Or that he simply doesn’t want his private life to mix with his work life.”

“Maybe you should try asking him out,” Skye prompted. “To something that is work-related, so that, you know, he could see that a little mixing would be worth a shot.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Maybe it would be better to… to just keep work and relationships separated. It might end badly,” Simmons added with sadness gripping her throat and clouding her voice.

“Then try and find out.”

“You really think I should?” Disbelief was fighting inside her with a tiny hope that was coming back to life. “Just a month ago you told me to ‘stay as far away from men as I can’. I’d rather not lay myself so open,” she admitted, her logic getting the better of her once again.

“Well, you either do something about it, or end up wondering about ‘what if’, your choice,” Skye shrugged. “But if I were you, I’d rather regret doing something than not doing it.”

* * *

 

It took Simmons a while to get the invitation to the Stark Expo: exactly eleven days and a lot of talking with way too many people. Sure, it would have been easy to get the one for public admission, since she was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s science department and that classified as work, but she was aiming higher. She wanted the limited workshop presentation with simulatins of works in progress and a discussion panel. She wanted the one that even the head of her department wasn’t invited to. And finally, she got it, all white and black with “Dr. Jemma Simmons” engraved in nice gold cursive along with the “plus one” that made her smile to herself with a warm feeling in her chest.

She looked briefly at the agenda- lots of presentations about technology and mechanics, some lectures that weren’t really so tied with her field, but well, no man could say _‘no’_ to that, she reasoned. Waiting until lunch to tell Fitz was not an option, even though she was trying to remember to be cool about it, to just mention it while looking like it wasn’t a big deal. She couldn’t wait and went to his lab, almost jumping with happiness.

Fitz looked so excited when she told him about the expo and her V.I.P. pass. He immediately took the pamphlet from her and read every tiny detail on the agenda.

But everything ended the moment she asked if he’d like to go with her as her plus one. His face changed instantly, the smile and happiness wiped from it.

“Er,” he said, a little startled. “Well, that would be really interesting, and uhm, so nice of you to think of me and offer this, really, I’m very grateful.” He looked at the agenda in his hand with a longing expression, then looked back at her with a sad look she couldn’t quite name. “But I can’t go.”

She felt like someone had erased the floor from beneath her feet, and she wondered how she was still standing.

“Oh.” How could she respond to that? She wasn’t exactly surprised, it wasn’t like it was the first time. Just a minute ago she had still been hoping that maybe _this_ time his answer would be different, and yet here he was, rejecting her again. She couldn’t understand why, it didn’t make any sense. It was clear that he wanted to go, she just couldn’t understand what the problem was. “Why?”

“Um, I’m busy.” His voice lacked conviction.

“Is it your delivery job?” she tried, not ready to give up yet. She’d recently started to doubt that she would ever be ready for that. “Maybe if you explained to them-”

“No. That’s not it.” His face became more guarded, which surprised her. It was the first time that Fitz had so clearly separated himself, showing her that he didn’t want to discuss it anymore. “I just can’t go, okay?” He looked at her more gently then, like he was asking her to understand something he couldn’t explain to her.

“Yes, I’ll just-” She hurried to answer him somehow, anyhow.

“You could ask some-”

“...try to ask some-”

“...there’s a lot of pe-”

“...since we have a lot of scie-”

“...should be interest-”

“...would be good for them to-”

“...come with you.”

“...see the expo.”

They stopped talking at the same time and stood there alone with the silence filling the room and making the air around them more thick with tension as seconds passed.

She ended up going with Bobbi Morse, with whom she took full advantage of the open bar. By the end of the evening the two of them were sitting by one of the tables, Simmons complaining about blind yet handsome engineers... generally speaking of course, and promising to never chase after any dumb idiot, while Bobbi was patting her back with understanding, blurting something about her dumb boyfriend’s trust and commitment issues.

* * *

 

Simmons was trying not to feel hurt and rejected because really, there could have been a dozen reasons for Fitz declining her invitation and not giving a proper explanation. Determined to not let it influence their contact too much, since it would be a shame to ruin such a good work partnership, she decided to just wait until her slight crush passed. She managed to not contact him at all during their Christmas break, when she went to visit her family- apart from Christmas and New Year’s wishes that were just polite, and some ideas about their project that were absolutely necessary to be shared, that is. Trying to figure out her New Year’s resolution, she opted for not letting the situation escalate. She would be cool and patiently wait for her feelings to finally shut up and start being logical.

71% of New Year's resolutions are broken during first two weeks, and her was no better. It started crumbling after just 9 days. She had just started working together with Fitz in the same lab. Their project was going smoothly, but she had more and more trouble with staying emotionally unaffected when he was just a few feet away. It was hard to ignore how he joked and sang along with the radio while he worked, his nimble fingers twirling, taking things apart and making them whole again with a grace she never would have expected from a mechanics specialist. It was getting even harder to not get her hopes up (again) when she so often caught him staring at her with a look on his face that immediately melted her heart. After two weeks, she was unable to stop herself from stealing glances back at him when he furrowed his brows and bit his lips in concentration. When she was back in her flat in the evening, trying to relax, she couldn’t stop recalling their conversations with fondness. Her heart would flutter each time he brought her tea before she could even voice that she was thirsty. It was impossible for her to stop searching for opportunities and excuses to stay a little closer to him.

She had a feeling that instead of going away, it was turning into something more serious than a simple crush.

And so, one day, when a conversation that started with choosing the right component ended with Fitz making her laugh so hard that she almost fell from her chair, her stomach exploding with butterflies when he caught her, she understood that she was in deep trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Take a Chance on Me" by ABBA.
> 
> Unfortunately, the statistic about New Year's resolutions is not a fake.


	9. Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard.

Melinda May raised her head when Leopold Fitz’s friendly smile entered her office with its owner following right behind it.

“What do you want?” she asked in a voice deprived of emotion.

“Only your friendship, Ms. May.” He answered a smile still firmly plastered to his face.

In exchange she shot him a cold glare.

“Which can be easily assessed as 2,500 dollars worth of a trip to Glasgow for the Horizon’s Annual Science and Technology Symposium, where I will proudly represent SHIELD’s science division,” he added after a whole minute of silence.

“And why would I send you there?”

“Because I’m a professional and it’s a great opportunity for the company?” He tried. “Because I’m nice and charming?” he added when May still didn’t look convinced.

More silence.

“Because I’m one of the best, the other one being Simmons, and we’ve all seen what happened during the last time she was engaged in business negotiations.” He looked at May, who just nodded. The incident with Simmons casually insulting their main supplier was famous, and he indeed had done a good job in turning everything into a harmless joke. “She needs backup during social interactions with powerful strangers, and I’d be happy to provide it.”

“Oh, you’d be happy to go with Simmons?” May forced her muscles to hide the shadow of a smile that dared to show on her face. “Well then, that’s interesting.”

Fitz furrowed his brows, feeling like there were some implications running around the room, but he couldn’t quite manage to catch them. Maybe he should have chosen a different tactic. Not that the vision of going with Simmons in a cocktail dress wasn’t appealing, because it was anything but, yet he might have at least mentioned the true reason for his eagerness. Maybe it would help him convince May.

“I expect you to put on your most optimistic and nice personality and charm every important person you can so they’ll start thinking about signing contracts with us,” said May, and she returned to her paperwork.

“Thank you, you won’t regret it,” Fitz smiled at her.

“Do what you’re supposed to do and I won’t care what you do with your free time or resources,” she added.

Fitz smiled wider.

* * *

 

“Skye?” Simmons tried to catch the attention of her friend while lurking in the entrance to her work office. “Skye! You have a free evening?”

“Not really, I’ve got plans,” Skye answered, taking her eyes away from the monitor.

Simmons hesitated for a second.

“Remember when you told me about priorities and emergency protocols? I’m afraid I have to call number 4.”

“Oh my god, fashion emergency!” Skye jumped up from her chair with a wide smile. “We’re going shopping! What’s the occasion? What is it? Is it a date?”

“No, it’s for the conference,” Simmons explained.

“What? But I’ve already tried to get you shopping, like two weeks ago, and you said ‘Oh Skye, it’s just a formal conference with a supper and a little dancing in the evening, my black dress will do just fine’. And when I pointed out that it’s four years old, you just said that makes it reliable. Reliable! That’s not a word to describe good clothes, Simmons!”

“Well, I changed my mind. I could use a new dress to change into for the supper and dancing. If I want to be treated seriously I have to treat the situation seriously in return, right?”

“Sure you do” Skye’s smile was so wide it made Simmons worried that it would pull her friend’s muscles.

* * *

 

“This dress looks great!” Skye clapped her hands with enthusiasm.

“I’m not sure.” Simmons uncertainly looked at herself in the mirror, trying to pull the hem of the dress a little lower.

“Oh please, Fitz will drop dead the moment he sees you in that.”

“What?! What?! Wh-why would Fitz have anything to do with… with my dress choosing process?” She tried to sound offended while hiding her cheeks behind her hair, so Skye wouldn’t notice the colour that started to appear on them.

“You’ve said ‘what’ two times in a row for starters. Also, I may not be a genius, but even I can make a connection between Fitz being sent to the conference and you running for a new dress the very same day. You’re trying to dress to impress and I’m happily helping you with that.”

“That’s not... He’s not... Well, it’s just for work,” she gave up on trying to explain.

“Wanna hear a secret? He asked to be sent there. I talked with Bobbi. He went to May and told her he would like to help you there.”

“Really?” She tried to not let her hopes get too high, but was losing as always.

“Really,” Skye nodded with certainty.

“Well, let’s... just for a moment, assume that… that this statement and the previous one are true,” Simmons said slowly, looking back at the mirror. “Does he really strike you as a guy who would go after a super short mini and low-cut top?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Poor thing would probably run away intimidated. Let’s find you something more modest but still smoking hot.”

A few dresses later, each of them discarded by Simmons since they were clearly lacking something, and Skye asking where her friend was, the one who had never cared so much about clothes and other stuff, Simmons could no longer deny that Skye was more right about some things than given credit for. After all, Simmons had never been a good liar and she couldn’t hide her emotions as well as she wished she could. She also couldn’t pretend any longer that nothing was happening or that she was in control of the situation. Truth was, none of her carefully thought-out and prepared plans of either getting Fitz out of her head or moving forward with him, were working as expected.  Each of her tactics failed, leaving her more and more confused about the contradictory signals he was giving her. Doctor Jemma Simmons, two PhDs, one of the youngest to graduate from her prestigious university, simply had no idea of what was happening and what to do.

This one time, it was she who went to Skye and started talking, not the other way around. She needed someone to tell her why, for God’s sake, she was trapped in this situation, how to get out and why Fitz wasn’t cooperating on the ‘getting out of it’ part. So instead of deflecting Skye’s questions and jokes, she started talking. She told her how Fitz was always sweet and nice but ignored each and every hint she dropped, how he was always nice and joking but the moment he had an actual chance to move forward, he was always turning away from it.

“Maybe he’s not into girls?” Skye tried, still shocked by the fact that Jemma Simmons was not only no longer denying her attraction to her coworker, but also demanding help in fixing her private life.

“Skye, think instead of talking nonsense,” Simmons shot her a glare. “He looks at me when he thinks I can’t notice, he always brushes his fingers over my hand when he’s handing me something and his pupils dilate slightly when he looks me in the eye. This all proves that he is indeed biologically attracted to me and our DNA may be a good match for creating offspring,” she pointed out.

Skye couldn’t stop her laughter.

“Not everything is about science and biology, Simmons,” she finally said. “Just because something makes sense when you look at it with logic, doesn’t mean that the heart will follow.”

“What, you’re saying that I’m repulsive?” Simmons tried not to sound offended, but she wasn’t able to. She had thought it too many times herself not to be hurt when someone else pointed it out.

“No. I’m saying that the fact that you two like each other might not be enough.” Skye desperately tried to fix her mistake. “It’s not everything. There must be something else. Something more than the fact that... that you two find each other’s... biology acceptable,” Simmons still didn’t looked convinced. “Look, let’s start with you and your point of view. I’m sure that the reason you’ve just tried on two dozen dresses and still can’t choose one because none of them are perfect, is not because you think that Fitz has nice body proportions and good genes. I won’t believe that’s what you value most in him. So what it is? And what’s making you so nervous?”

Simmons was silent for a while, trying to give names to the foreign feelings that had been battling inside her for months already, trying to clear it all up enough to articulate it and make Skye understand. Because maybe then they would both come up with a solution.

“It’s like... he’s warm, you know?” she tried. “When I’m in trouble he’s always there for me. Like with that presentation. Or when we had to convince this guy to make a deal for the delivery of components. When I’m sad, he makes me laugh so hard that I forget what I was sad about. Sometimes, when he looks at me I feel... like I’m valuable. Because I have to be, if someone looks at me that way. But then, when I try to get closer, not even to change our relationship, but to get to know him better, to reach out for him like he does for me, he turns cold or pushes me away. Each time I try to give him a hint that I’m open to the idea of taking a step forward he takes two steps backwards. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Well,” Skye tried to think of something helpful to say, but it was hard. “Normally I would say that maybe a guy is just friendly and you read too much into things, but it’s Fitz we’re talking about. He’s not the friendly-open-touchy type. Maybe he has some other problem. Maybe he just needs time.”

“It’s not like I’m pushing him to go faster,” Simmons pointed. “I’d just like some kind of… feedback from him.”

“You know, maybe he’s just not the right guy,” Skye tried to go with the other option. “Maybe you should give up on him.”

“I don’t want to!” The speed and stubbornness of her reply suprised even Simmons herself. “I don’t want to give up on him. I won’t! Not until I understand why we can’t become more than we are.”

They were both silent for a moment and Simmons put away another dress.

“But you know,” Skye caught her hand wandering over hangers. “It’s the first time since I’ve known you that you found a guy you think is worth fighting for. That’s a good thing.”

Simmons just nodded. If only it could be a tiny bit easier. If only she had an idea of what was happening. Well, at least now she was no longer alone in this whole mess, she thought, looking at her friend.

An hour and a half later she finally found the dress that made her feel pretty enough for his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "The Scientists" by Coldplay
> 
> Horizon’s Annual Science and Technology Symposium is a reference to Horizon Labs from Spider-Man Unlimited (I just checked Marvel Database, guilty as charged)


	10. Tomorrow be damned, but today I’m so blessed!

The conference was... like any other conference Simmons had been to. She had never liked them, all the strangers surrounding her making her nervous and lost on how to explain her ideas so they could understand. There were people asking questions which proved that they had no idea what they were talking about. There were people who were silent and just nodding, bored by the topics they knew inside and out. There were speeches and presentations and simulations. There was a coffee break and a lunch break and even a tea break, which was new.

But newest of all, Fitz was there with her. Sure, it was just work and duties and science things to take care of for S.H.I.E.L.D., but it made her feel more confident, knowing that he was there to help her.

It was their work and they had to be professional as long as the official part was still going, so she tried not to steal too many glances at Fitz in his light blue shirt and tie and tried not to smile to herself like a teenage girl each time she caught him looking not-so-subtly at her. She tried her best not to go to him immediately each time she caught his eyes and not let her mind wonder if he’d like her cocktail dress and if they would dance that evening or what way they could spend their free time tomorrow. Really, they’d spent the whole day dancing around each other before it was time for the actual dancing.

But finally the evening came, and she rushed to her room with excitement to change into her new dress and fix her makeup and hair, just to be sure that she looked good. Better than an ordinary day in the lab, and certainly better than that memorable evening when he delivered pizza to her flat. Normally dressing took her a few minutes, 20 at most along with makeup, but that evening she took advantage of the whole time she was given, and yet, when she left her room after an hour she was still a little nervous. Questions were running through her head on her way to the elevator and the journey down in tiny space full of mirrors- was it too much, or too little, and would he even see the difference or care? It was really a huge paradox, since on one side she was convinced that her appearance shouldn’t matter, it was her character and intelligence that should be valued and if some man couldn’t see that, he wasn’t good enough for her. On the other, she really wanted the added bonus of looking pretty and a chance of catching this particular guy’s eye with it, so that he would finally notice how many merits she possessed and spare her all attention she deserved. She didn’t give a damn about the rest of the room and the people she was supposed to impress as long as it worked with this one.

* * *

 

Fitz was quite pleased with himself. The conference was a blast, he was pretty sure that some of the people he talked to were positively convinced to sign the contract right that moment and the others were curious enough to watch S.H.I.E.L.D.’s actions with interest. He did everything he was supposed to do the best he could, and even Ms. May wouldn’t be able to find anything to complain about. He even managed not to stare at Simmons like an idiot (her plain black dress was really nice) the whole day, which was challenging, and that achievement made him truly proud. Now he was laying on his (not so comfortable) bed in a hotel room, glad that he had an hour of peace before he would have to go for banquet and dancing. Why someone who organised the meeting felt obliged to add such a time-wasting addition was beyond him. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would think it was a good idea to gather a bunch of scientists and businessmen and take the evening away from them, pretending that a tiny dance was a good form of entertainment.

He sighed at the thought of spending his evening in a room full of people, awkwardly trying to figure out if he had to dance or if he could somehow escape and turn invisible. He would have to try not to sing or hum, which would be simply humiliating. He really couldn’t understand how someone would think that locking people in a room with a music and forbidding them from singing would result in everyone enjoying themselves. At least he didn’t have to change, just put his blazer on- that was reassuring. Plus, there would be food there. He tried to remind himself that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, that it would only be a few hours and maybe he would be able to leave early and get some sleep. That would be best, given what he planned to do tomorrow. He needed to get as much rest as he could.

When his alarm announced the end of his far-too-short break, he took his blazer from his chair and went to the door, nodding to himself as he repeated the plan inside his head on the way to the lift. Just go there, be seen and come back as soon as possible, get some sleep, wake up early and then...

“Hi there,” he heard Simmons’ voice just after the doors to the lift opened. “What are the odds of us meeting here?”

Surprisingly Fitz didn’t start calculating the probability, opting for forcing his jaw to not drop down at the sight of her. In a dress. In a very, very impressive dress, looking even better on her perfect body. With her adorable little face looking somehow different with her hair put up in a new way and her cosmetics bringing out just how pretty she was. As if it was possible not to notice it before, really, now she was almost radiant.

 _It had been a good plan_ , Fitz thought while entering the lift and seeing how his whole strategy for the immediate future was crushed and shattered by Simmons’ shy and hopeful smile.

It still took him almost an hour to convince himself that he actually could ask her for a dance and there would be nothing improper about it. Actually, it would be very beneficial for S.H.I.E.L.D. It would minimise the risk of him punching some very important contractors who not only asked her for a dance, clearly abusing their position, but also were staying way too close for what he defined as ‘proper distance between two professional colleagues’. They were simply taking advantage of the fact that she was too polite to decline. Because that was Simmons in a nutshell: polite, nice, considerate, sweet, a little shy and socially awkward, basically all things good and pure personified. It was a dangerous trail of thought he really shouldn’t be allowing himself to take. The worst part- those guys couldn’t even see it, wouldn’t bother to look close enough, past her dress that made her look even more gorgeous, and the way she’d done her hair and face. In addition to all of that, it kept him from enjoying his food, because he had to constantly make sure that nobody was imposing themselves on his coworker. S.H.I.E.L.D. should be grateful, he was just taking care of their employee, even if he wasn’t sure which one it was. Besides, he’d really done a good job today and maybe just this once he could let himself simply do something he felt like doing, just because he wanted to do it.

And so, the next time Simmons came back to his spot after another dance with a stranger, (he didn’t let himself wonder why she kept returning to him after each of them), he started talking with her about thermodynamics, cursing his mind for not being able to find a smooth way to move to a dance invitation. After a few minutes of quite interesting (given the circumstances) discussion, he scratched his jaw and awkwardly cut the topic off with his question, trying to see her reaction and avoid her eyes at the same time.

“I’d love to,” she beamed with enthusiasm, generating enough energy to keep him going through the whole night.

* * *

 

It was all totally worth it, she thought while dancing slowly with Fitz. It was worth feeling a tiny bit silly in her dress that was just a little too much for the occasion, and being uncomfortable for an hour while dancing with strangers and having to smile politely at them, and her feet being literally killed by her high heels. But now here they were- dancing with each other. At first they were both so unsure about how to move and where to put their hands and whether they should talk or just sway, and whether or not they should look at each other or around. The dance was tainted with her dreading the moment the music would stop, forcing them apart again. She expected him to let go of her hand or walk her back to the place they were standing before, and that thought was keeping her from the pleasure of being near him even for a moment. When the song ended, to her surprise Fitz just spun her around, making her twirl, apparently not intending to let go of her anytime soon. Simmons noticed in the corner of her eye some other man coming in their direction, the director of some company she had talked with that evening, who clearly planned to ask her for the next dance, but fortunately Fitz subtly navigated them away from him. The next song started playing and she smiled happily at him, leaning a tiny bit closer, when he just continued dancing with her. After a while they ended up very close to each other without even noticing, and now they were relaxed and comfortable, just enjoying themselves, like it was the most natural place for them to be, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm supporting her.

It felt nice and safe. They had been close to each other before, in the lab or at the bar or even her couch during the rare occasions when he visited, but somehow this felt so much different and more meaningful to her. There was no work to excuse them, no one else to make the situation less intimate and personal. It was just her and him, together, enjoying the other’s presence, their souls getting closer with gentle brushes of skin and breath. He was warm, keeping her close with a gentle embrace on the small of her back. And seriously, whatever cologne he’d used should be declared illegal with the way the smell was affecting her. It made her want to just close her eyes and get lost in his scent while cuddling closer to him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been that happy and content without anything to worry her, or without her thoughts wandering towards the future. She simply wanted the night to last as long as possible, and not care about anything else.

She nuzzled closer to his neck and smiled lightly to herself when his hand pressed a little harder into her skin in response. Maybe the distance between them, or lack of it, was not professional and appropriate, but Fitz had worked on closing it as much as she had, and she was as far from protesting as possible, the prying eyes of others be damned. She considered sending a big basket of cookies to whoever organized the conference for giving her an excuse to snuggle against Fiz and for him to hold her.

When the song ended she felt disappointment washing over her when Fitz started moving away.

“Would you like to take a walk in the garden?” he asked, tilting his head toward the exit.

She just nodded, following happily as he directed her toward the door with his hand still pressed over the small of her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "The Writing's On The Wall" from Rudolf, The Last Kiss musical
> 
> I know that dancing is not usual on science conferences, that’s why Fitz was surprised ;)


	11. The cold never bothered me anyway

The evening air hit her with all its coolness, which really shouldn’t have surprised her, given the time and place, but a shiver still ran through her body. It was the beginning of March, which meant that it was still way too cold for walking outside in thin cocktail dresses, yet she was trying to behave like the cold was not bothering her at all. Metaphorically speaking, that was what she had been trying to prove to herself for a few months already. But no matter how much she wanted to convince herself, the truth wouldn’t change.

So there she was, standing next to the door to the ballroom, in her pretty dress and the light sweater she’d taken from her chair, trying not to shiver so Fitz wouldn’t notice and change his mind about their walk, because the idea of both of them finally alone in nice surroundings was too tempting to give up. So she tried to stop her teeth from chattering and smiled at him, happy that they could spend some time together.

“You’re cold,” he noticed, and she tried to shake her head to deny it, but her body choose that exact moment to tremble.

“I don’t want to go back,” she said before he could suggest it. She really didn’t want to go back, not when he was finally the one to propose they go somewhere together, even if it was just a few steps outside the building. So she looked at him, face determined and sure, even as the cold bit at her every second.

“All right, take this.” He took off his blazer and put it over her shoulders.

She took it with gratitude, pulling her arms into the sleeves and closing the material around her, content to be surrounded by his warmth and smell. She looked up at him, about to thank him, when she noticed that now she had a cardigan and a warm blazer on, while he was standing there in just his pale blue shirt.

“You’ll be cold,” she whispered, tugging on the material covering her, ready to give it back to him.

“I’m fine, I’m used to it.” He waved his hand and looked around, furrowing his brows and taking a step away from her. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that there’s... Yes, here, come on.” He moved away, giving her a sign with his hand to follow him.

They moved away from the door, walking on the narrow path through the garden to the tiny arbour just a few yards away. When they got there, Fitz immediately rushed to the wooden bench and raised the seat to take out some blankets from storage. He smiled and handed her one, which she took from him with quiet thanks. They both sat on the bench, wrapped in blankets that protected them from cold air and remained silent for a while, neither of them knowing what to do now that they were there.

“What do you think about Cybertech’s stun grenades?” she finally asked, because science had always been there for her when everything else failed.

“Nice idea.” He nodded his approval. “But they won’t be able to make it work, they don’t have good enough people. Not to mention that it would lack precision too much to be useful. And the name? ‘Sleepy-Sleep Wave’? Sounds like a nursery rhyme and doesn’t even make a nice acronym,” he smiled, and she laughed at his joke. “It’s still better than Hammer’s armour. I wonder where they stolen their idea from, Don Quixote?” he added, his expression deadly serious, too serious for it to be true and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m afraid that they could sue you for saying that,” she said after a while, when she had calmed a little.

“Nah, they are too busy with all their trials for breaking intellectual property laws,” he shrugged.

“And in how many of them are you included?”

“Just a few...” he said, rolling his eyes with a smile. “The security system of the last company that I was working for was not good enough. Still, they made so many mistakes during production that the end product was trash, so not much to cry over.”

“I remember when they once tried to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s server. Skye was laughing for a few hours about it, not only because they didn’t manage to copy anything, they also left the window open for her to get into their system.”

“Ah, the ‘ _we are sorry for being idiots and apologise in advance for our uselessness, please be so kind as to not waste your time and go to S.H.I.E.L.D._ ’ message on their homepage, I remember that.”

They laughed for a while and then continued talking, not worrying about the time and weather, safely hidden from the outside world in their arbour, happy to share a tiny moment with each other.

And as always, when things were going good, something had to stop them. This time it was Simmons feeling a little forward in the nice atmosphere.

“We have a free day tomorrow, since the plane leaves at night, so maybe we could go sightseeing? Maybe you could show me around?” she asked, and there was silence, just a split second too long to be comfortable, especially after how their sentences had been overlapping just a moment before. She instantly knew it wouldn’t end the way she was hoping for.

“I already have plans for tomorrow, sorry,” he responded after a few seconds, his face no longer happy and relaxed. “I’ll be back just an hour before we have to go to the airport.”

“I see,” she nodded, trying not to loose the cheer in her voice, which was impossible, given how, again, everything had been going nice and smooth, just to crack when she tried to move forward.

Sure, it was no big deal, he had plans, that didn’t mean anything. But it was hard to convince herself that it was meaningless when it was happening over and over every single time she thought she was getting closer to him.

They were silent, the carefree atmosphere gone, leaving them both in a cold winter night in a foreign place, away from the lights and joy of the ballroom. She didn’t know what to say, unable to smoothly find another topic and behave like nothing had happened. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her arms and looked ahead at the columns supporting the roof, at the lights playing with darkness and shadows. Fitz was throwing her looks, furrowing his brows and biting his lip anxiously and a little guiltily. Finally he took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“I’m going home,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure, and she looked at him, surprised that he was giving her an actual explanation. “I wanted to see my mum since I’m nearby. I couldn’t come visit during Christmas, the tickets were too expensive, so she was alone. That’s why I wanted to go to this conference. It’s a few hours by train from here, so if I go early in the morning I’ll get to spend an afternoon at home.”

“I understand,” she assured him, smiling a little, because at least now she could see the reason. At least now she knew she wasn’t the source of the problem. “It’s nice of you to go see her,” she added, and was rewarded with his wide smile and a silence that was no longer uncomfortable.

“You could come with me,” he blurted suddenly.

“What?” she said without thinking, afraid that she’d heard him wrong.

“I mean, there’s not much for sightseeing there.” The words rushed out of him, trying to find his way on new ground. “But there are some nice hills around and a river, so if you don’t mind walking there are some pretty good hiking spots there, I could show you around. Or I could just tell you what’s worth seeing in Glasgow...” he added, uncertain, looking at her as if he was going to back away, scared that she wouldn’t like the idea.

“I’d love to go,” she assured him with a wide, excited smile.

“Yeah?” He smiled a little, still not sure.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

They sat there for a moment, grining at each other like two teenagers, happy that for once everything was going nicely.

“The train,” Fitz said after a while, furrowing his brows again. “It leaves at 4:20 am, and it takes four hours to get there, you sure you wouldn’t rather get enough sleep? It’s your free day...”

“I don’t mind,” she shook her head. “I don’t mind getting up early,” she clarified. “I want to go.”

“All right then.” He smiled at her widely. “Prepare to be amazed by Scotland’s natural beauty.”

“I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Let It Go" from Frozen.
> 
> I’d also like to add that I’m really happy that Glasgow does indeed have an airport, because of course I checked it only after writing the whole thing.


	12. So let's raise a tab 'cause I found someone to carry me home

It wasn’t hard for Simmons to wake up the next morning, her excitement and impatience taking the sleep away ten minutes before the alarm clock started ringing, not caring that barely four hours had passed since she went to bed. Instead of moping about it she twirled around her room happily while brushing her hair and was almost bouncing while she was putting the last things into her bag. She was almost jumping on her way to the lift, like a child before a school trip.

Fitz was waiting for her in the lobby, sitting on the sofa, his backpack laying near his feet, face a little tired and sleepy, but cheering up instantly at the sight of her.

“Hi,” he greeted her, getting up from his seat. “I took some food from the kitchen.” He showed her two neatly-packed bags with the hotel’s logo printed on them. “Since we will miss all our meals today. They’ve even packed us some cookies.”

“That’s nice of them.” She reached out to take one of the bags, but he shook his head and waved her hand off.

“I’ll take it,” he assured her. “Let’s go, the taxi stop is just around the corner.”

“All right,” she nodded, and followed him out of the hotel.

If she had to choose an adjective to describe their taxi ride, she would have gone with ‘bashful’. They were both silent, apart from a few courtesy sentences, both smiling shyly and stealing secret glances at the other, just to turn back to the window and grin at the scenery, which was not so amazing as to cause that reaction.

The ride was not long and soon they were at the station, Fitz insisting on carrying all her luggage in addition to his own. Luckily the queue for the tickets was short, only a few people before them. A few minutes later they were on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive, eating their sandwiches and drinking the tea that Fitz had bought from the vending machine. It tasted terrible, but neither of them complained, because at least it was tea,  it was hot and they were in the United Kingdom.

The train was old but comfy enough, and Simmons kind of liked the old-fashioned type of car they were sitting in, with its walls that pretended to be wood and seats that were covered with a soft, fluffy material. It was so much better than the spacious, metal new ones with no compartments. This way they had a tiny space all to themselves, no strangers, no interruptions.

They spent a few hours talking about everything and nothing, her enjoying the view and him pointing out where to look, telling her names and stories about the places they were passing through.

Finally they arrived at their destination, which happened to be a tiny station with a long platform.

“It’s a 15 minutes walk,” he told her a little guiltily.

“That’s fine. I could use some fresh air,” she assured him with a smile.

“Let’s go then,” he smiled in response.

They walked along a narrow road between the fields, not a single soul in sight. It was still cold but the snow had almost disappeared, yet it wasn’t enough for the grass to fully come back to life, and she couldn’t help but wonder how it would all look in the summer, and if she would ever have an opportunity to see it. Soon there were buildings in sight, small cottages that looked pleasant and cozy. They took a turn here and there, walking toward one of them, one with a nice stone fence and a small yard.

The gate was open and Fitz started walking faster towards the door, reaching for the door knob impatiently.

“Mum, I’m home!” he called the moment he stepped through the door.

“Finally! Welcome back, son!”

A woman emerged from one of the back rooms, short and thin, with brown hair tied in a bun and a grey apron over her dark skirt and loose sweater, blue eyes looking at him with a wide smile, only to switch to Jemma in surprise in a next moment.

“This is my mum; mum, this is Jemma Simmons, she’s-,” he started introducing her.

“The one you were talking about, Simmons? From work?” his mother interrupted, coming closer. “You should have told me you were bringing her, I’d have made more pudding.” She furrowed her brows at her son in a way that looked very familiar to Simmons.

“It kind of happened in the last min-” he started to explain.

“Oh, please there’s no need to-” Simmons wanted to ensure that she didn’t need anything and didn’t mean to impose.

“Shush, both of you.” She waved her hand at them. “What’s done is done. Let me hug you, I’m so glad you’re finally back.” She came closer and hugged her son, who was slightly taller than she was, and had to bend just a little to hug her back.

“I’m glad to see you too,” he murmured into her embrace.

They finally parted and Fitz’s mother came closer to Simmons, who was still standing at the door in her coat and shoes, not sure what to do.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” his mother said, reaching out her hand for a handshake. “Leo was speaking highly about you.” They shook hands.

“It’s nice to hear that, Mrs. Fitz,” Simmons smiled, but a second later she started to worry, because Fitz’s father was nowhere to be seen and now that she thought about it, she’d never heard even a mention of the man, and what if she’d used the wrong title?

“Well, breakfast is almost ready, so you’ll both finally have a nice, warm meal,” Fitz’s mother said, moving away. “I hope the train ride didn’t tire you up too much? And why are you still in your coat, are you cold?” she asked Simmons.

“No, I’m, um...” she was lost as to what to say and tugged on her coat to take it off. Fortunately Fitz’s mum was not expecting an answer and disappeared back into one of the rooms, which was probably the kitchen. “You told your mother about me?” she asked Fitz with disbelief.

“She was asking,” he said, as if that explained everything.

* * *

 

It had been a long time since Simmons had been so full. And a long time since she’d eaten a real, British, full breakfast. There was even a potato scone (“tattie scone,” as Fitz and his mother corrected her) and porridge. She was happy to help with washing the dishes while Fitz was busy taking apart some device that, according to his mother, hadn’t been functioning for months. They both spent a while near the sink, Fitz’s mother washing plates and cups, and Simmons wiping them dry.

After the work in the kitchen was done, they went to the living room and sat in armchairs, chatting for a while-or rather, exchanging awkward small talk, until Mrs. Fitz stood up to take a photo album off the shelf. Jemma looked around, at the paintings on the walls, at the collection of framed photos on the shelf, some of them lying face down, and at an old bookshelf full of novels mixed with some technical books and magazines about housekeeping. The room was nice and warm, with a fireplace, soft cushions and a view of the hills. It was also quiet, which was a nice change after her thin-walled flat near the main street.

“Look.” Mrs. Fitz came back with a big photo album and showed her a picture. “That was taken just after he got accepted to university,” she explained, and Simmons looked at the page which was shaking slightly in the other woman’s fragile hands.

Simmons took it away from her to look closer at young’s Fitz happy face just next to his mother’s proud one. He was clutching a letter in his hands, the words too small to be read, while his mother was hugging him. Next to that photo was another one, of Fitz working on some blueprint, his hair a mess and his grumpy expression aimed right at the camera. Simmons couldn’t help but smile at that one. It seemed like some things didn’t change. Two albums later, Fitz was still not done with the device and his mother excused herself, saying something about preparing dinner. Simmons insisted on helping. They both moved back to the kitchen, suddenly quiet, not knowing what to talk about since they’d finished going through all the photo albums.

“It’s been a while since he’s been home,” Mrs. Fitz said, trying to end the awkward silence. “But he never forgets to call,” she assured her. “He’s not a bad boy,” she added, and Simmons smiled at the thought of what Fitz would do if he heard that he’d been referred to as a ‘boy’. “He always remembers. Although sometimes he forgets about time zone differences. Once, he was at friend’s birthday party, and it must have been a really good one, may I add, because he called me in the middle of his night, because he figured he could say good morning to me. Well, he tried, but his brain wasn’t as bright as usual at that moment,” she chuckled, and Simmons started laughing but stopped when the other woman started coughing, covering her mouth with one of her skinny hands.

“Are you all right?” Simmons moved closer, concerned.

“It will pass in a moment,” Mrs. Fitz waved her hand dismissively, still coughing. “It’s all right,” she assured her.

But it wasn’t. Simmons was not that kind of doctor, but she knew enough about the human body to recognise the symptoms of illness and knew they couldn’t mean anything good.

It did pass after a moment, and they both returned to preparing dinner, soon joined by Fitz who had finally finished his repairs. The atmosphere was much better with him back; they joked and told stories during dinner, and she even told them about her failure when she was supposed to do a science project back at school and overdid it so much that even the teacher had problems grasping her ideas. Fitz’s mother told her a story about Fitz’s geography class, even though he tried to shush her when she was talking, about how he had scribbled blueprints and schematics on the back of his exam and asked teacher to _“just give him a 0% and return the paper to him immediately”_.

Simmons was laughing so hard that she couldn’t eat anything for a whole minute, and Fitz rolling his eyes certainly was not helping her self control.

* * *

 

“I’m so sorry, I invited you here and then left you with my mum for so long.” Fitz looked at her while she was putting her boots on, guilt and remorse reflected in all of his features.

“It’s all right,” she assured him. “We had a really good time together.” She was hoping for an even better time on the walk they were going on.

“Really?” He found that hard to believe.

“Really,” she assured. He nodded, still not sure, and she licked her lips, looking carefully around to make sure that they were alone. “Fitz?”

“Mhm?” He looked at her questioningly.

“About your mother...” she started quietly, uncertain if she should ask.

“What about her?” His voice changed when he put his hands on his hips, and she saw that look again: the one she already learned to recognise. The one that meant that if she got just a tiny bit closer, he would step back. The one warning her that she was dancing on the edge.

“She seems really nice,” she said instead.

He visibly relaxed at that, taking his hands away from his hips and waving them a little.

“Yeah, she’s great,” he told her with a smile. “Here.” He took a plaid shawl from the hook next to the door and put it over her arms. “It’s really windy on the hills,” he explained, wrapping the material carefully around her neck.

“Thank you,” she smiled bashfully, leaning a little into the warm wool that was brushing her cheek.

“You’re welcome.” He stayed right next to her for a moment longer than necessary, looking into her eyes with a smile, making her feel warmer-and it wasn’t thanks to the scarf. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

It was a really nice afternoon, in Fitz’s opinion. He had eaten a delicious dinner, he’d repaired his mother’s washing machine so it wasn’t taking the detergent too fast anymore, he got to spend some time with his mother after months of video conferences, and he even got to take Simmons on a nice walk around the neighbourhood and spend the whole afternoon hiking on the hills he’d known since he was a kid, looking at her cheerful face, which looked so lovely with the scarf he’d wrapped her in. He showed her the best views he could think of and watched her excitement with amazement. He eagerly helped her climb some tricky parts of the hills, reaching for her and holding her hand or arm, making sure she wouldn’t trip or fall, and was glad to notice her leaning into his hold, taking a little more support from him than necessary.

It made him really sad that soon it would all have to an end, when they would be back at work and dealing with real life’s problems. Soon the idyll will end and he would have to go back to maintaining his usual distance for the sake of them both. Maybe allowing himself this moment of carelessness had been a mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to back off, not when they both were clearly having such a nice time together. Why ruin it when it could still last for a moment longer?

So he took her to the river too and they sat there, watching the strong current, and he showed her where his tree house used to be, and then they walked through the woods until he found the old cave where the teens carved their initials into the stone walls. The whole hike took them more than three hours and by the time they got back, they were both quite tired but content.

The real extent of their tiredness didn’t catch up with them until they were back on the train. The gentle swinging of the train was almost rocking them both to sleep, which made them realise just how little rest they’d both had the night before. Simmons didn’t have enough energy left to look at the views they were passing by, opting for trying to find a more comfortable position for resting. Fitz looked at her for a while, as she was wiggling in her seat, bending her lips in dissatisfaction each time she changed her position.

After a while she had finally found a position that was comfortable enough, because she was clearly falling asleep, her head bending lower and lower as her consciousness left her. He looked at her peaceful face and smiled to himself when she unconsciously leaned on his arm. He moved a little to make her more comfortable and give her some support.

* * *

 

Simmons hadn’t noticed that she had fallen asleep until a bump on the tracks woke her up. Apparently, she was laying on Fitz’s shoulder, which made her panic for split second. She tried to move away, sure that he would push her away himself in a moment, like he always did, sure that she had gone too far again.

“Shush,” she heard his soothing voice. “Sleep.” His arm around her back tightened and pulled her closer, encouraging her to relax.

So she did just that, enjoying the moment while it lasted, cuddling closer to his chest and breathing in his scent, her heart swelling at the feeling of his coat draped over her body, keeping her warm.

She tried as hard as she could to pretend to be asleep but at the same time not let the sleep overtake her, absorbing every sensation she could, but it was impossible. If she wanted to stay awake, she had to focus on something that would keep her that way.

“Your mother packed me the cake,” she said lazily.

“She hasn’t packed any for me,” Fitz said in amusement.

“She said that you probably eat sweets all the time when she’s not watching,” she explained and he chuckled.

“Apparently she must have come to like you.”

“You think so?”

“She doesn’t just go and give her cake to anyone.”

Simmons smiled and stayed silent for a moment.

“My mother barely bakes,” she finally told him, not really knowing why. She just wanted to keep talking with him, no matter the topic. “She always just made us ice cream for dessert. She was quite busy all the time and this was the fastest to make. Just throw in some ice cream, add some crushed biscuits and fruits, maybe some chocolate or whipped cream from the can. But we loved them.”

“Who doesn’t? Every dessert is great,” he smiled.

“It was good motivation too. The dinner was usually whatever she could think of that would be done in 20 minutes from the things she found in the fridge, so the taste wasn’t always the best. But with the ice cream waiting as a reward we were always motivated to eat everything.”

“We?”

“Me and my older sister,” she explained.

“You have a sister? You’ve never mentioned her.”

“There was no occasion to, I guess,” she shrugged. “Mum really liked her job and wasn’t the best cook, so my sister started helping her out with that, to the point that she was the one cooking at home by the time she was 20. Now she has her own restaurant in town. My parents go there every day for lunch and they eat together with her and her husband and kids. It’s kind of family restaurant because of that. ”

“This sounds really nice,” Fitz said, with something in his voice that she couldn’t really name or place. Something that sounded almost longing. “My mother loves cooking. She always takes her time preparing food, makes sure everything is tasty,” he told her after a moment.

“Fitz?” she asked, nuzzling his arm with her cheek a little- to find the most comfortable position, of course.

“Mhm?” He was just as tired as she was, she could tell.

“What happened with your father?” She felt him tense and cursed her bloody curiosity. It had been such a nice day and now it was all going to crash in a second. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” she rushed to apologise, lifting her head from his shoulder.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, it’s all right.” He caught her arm with his hand and pulled her to rest against his side again. “It’s just a boring story, nothing really interesting. “

“I’d gladly hear it. If you want to share, that is.” She returned to her previous spot, her head on his arm, and closed her eyes so she wasn’t looking at him, so he wouldn’t feel pressured.

“He left.” He shrugged and she didn’t say anything, wondering if he would add something else. He sighed, leaned back a little to sink into his seat more, and began speaking again. “When I was 12 classes were so boring for me. I hated some of them. I would have rather rebuilt mum’s hair dryer than study history. You’ve heard the story about geography exam. It wasn’t the only one. There were more. Much more. Teachers were stupid, their lessons were too slow and I didn’t really get on well with my classmates. So I failed history and geography simply because I didn’t want to spend time memorising dates and names.”

“You failed a class in primary school?” She couldn’t believe that. “They wanted you at MIT but you went to Cambridge and had a PhD in 5 years.”

He looked at her, a little surprised.

“I’ve read your resume,” she admitted.

“Actually I had my PhD in 4 years. I had to repeat 7th grade. That’s the missing year. Not really proud of it. But back to the story...” He looked away again. “My parents weren’t exactly happy about it. The fact that I had excellent grades in Math and Physics just added to it. They couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was and how to deal with it. My mother wanted to let me stay at that school, while my father wanted to send me somewhere else. One day he even proposed military school, to ‘straighten my mind’ as he said. Mum told him he’d gone insane, and that I had to stay at home and start getting along with kids my age. They were arguing more and more, and then one day he just left. Probably figured he didn’t need a weird kid and dysfunctional family, too many problems keeping him away from his important job and making him look bad in front of his coworkers. They were his true priority. So he moved away, and remarried half a year after the divorce went through. Kind of fast now that I think of it. He must have met her while he was still living with us. A rebound for the nuisances of home life, that sounds just like him. Anyway, mum didn’t take it well. She got apathetic, never smiled anymore, just did what was necessary on autopilot. Each morning she was either burning breakfast or leaving it undone. I hated it, especially since she didn’t seem to care what she was eating and that it tasted awful. So I got myself together at school because I ddn’t want to add to her problems, so at least she didn’t have to worry about me. It took her almost a year and a lot of really horrible meals to get back to normal. My father never contacted her, not once since the divorce, apart from his wedding invitation, which was for us both. Mum ripped it into pieces and burned it in the fireplace and cried the whole night in her room thinking I couldn’t hear her.”

She saw his hands clench in anger and barely resisted the urge to soothe them with hers. It was already a lot for them, with him actually speaking about personal and painful things, while she was cuddled to his shoulder. The last thing she wanted was to push her luck or spook him, or make him close himself off again. She really wasn’t sure what she could do, since saying ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ sounded pathetic even in her own head.

“The worst part is, she never stopped loving him. After all these years, after all he’s done to her, to us, she still keeps their wedding photo in the living room and some others of the three of us together on her nightstand.” He smiled without the slightest shade of happiness in it, just irritation and disbelief, like it was something he had tried to understand for years and failed every time. “I haven’t heard from him after the divorce except for a casual ‘Happy Birthday’ through the phone and some polite letters with bunch of empty well-wishes and ‘you could visit if you feel like it’. Somehow, looking at mum trying to struggle through life on her own, I haven’t ever felt like doing it myself. And he never really tried to convince me to come visit, happy with his normal family that replaced us, and kids that weren’t difficult. He paid the money for alimony and that was it. With time the letters were shorter and less frequent and I haven’t spoken with him at all since my 19th birthday. So, as I said, nothing interesting in that story,” he finished, still looking away from her, his hands still trembling slightly.

She was sitting there, silent for a while, trying to figure out how to make him feel better, how to fix things. But there were no words to fix it.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she finally whispered, leaning closer to him.

“Sure,” he whispered.

They were sitting there in silence, not really having the strength or energy to continue the conversation. “We still have two and a half an hours before we’ll get back.”

“I don’t know how about you,” she said, yawning a little. “But I will probably take another nap. My eyes are closing on their own and I always have trouble with sleeping on a plane.”

“I know what you mean,” he nodded, and hugged her closer. The train was lulling them both to sleep and she was nodding off on his arm again. “We’ll have a terrible jet lag on Monday, you know that?” he murmured sleepily .

“Mhm,” she hummed in response, not really caring, because there was no way she would give up a pillow that warm and comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "We Are Young" by Fun
> 
> Education system in UK is a little complicated and apparently it’s slightly different in Scotland, so I’m not really sure which class Fitz would be in at the age of 12.


	13. I’ve learned the hard way to never let it get that far

Simmons hadn’t been hoping that her little trip to Scotland with Fitz would bring a mass change in their relationship; she’d had enough disappointment already and wanted to enjoy what she had instead of dwelling on what could be. The only difference from their routine that could be seen straight away on Monday, was that they both were absolutely exhausted and sleepy, in full jet-lag mode. Bobbi Morse was merciless about that during their lunch break, telling her how she had sworn not to let engineers influence her life just two months ago, and now she’d clearly had a great time with one on what was supposed to be a business trip. Simmons was too tired to force her to shut up, and couldn’t really bring herself to deny having a great weekend. Apart from that though, everything seemed just as it used it be. They worked in the lab, chatted, stood a little too close to each other, smiled a little too much and stole glances a little too often.

There was something else, though. Maybe she was just seeing the things she wanted to see, but with each passing day Fitz seemed a little more relaxed near her, and they were spending more and more time together. Sometimes he would walk her to the bus station after work even though his was the opposite way, and sometimes they’d go to a bar with Skye to relax after they’d finished a particularly hard job. They were calling each other more often; Fitz became the first person she went to when she just needed to talk and the first to call when she was pleased with her accomplishments. He was the very first to tell her she did great and congratulate her on a job well-done, the one who really cared about what was happening in her life. But that was it- that invisible border was still between them.

A little more than two weeks after the conference, Bobbi proposed meeting for a few beers in a nearby pub, just to relax a little, which was a nice idea given that the worst part of her project with Fitz was over and they were finally entering the last stage, preparing it for official release. Both Simmons and Fitz deserved some rest and she was really looking forward to a nice evening with company. Skye had gone out of town to visit friends for a few days and the flat was a little too empty and lonely without her roommate. Not that she really needed an excuse to hang out with Fitz, and Bobbi of course. Even Hunter came, even if just for a short while.

They were all sitting there, in their favourite bar, having fun, talking and laughing at Hunter and Bobbi’s bickering. Everything was nice until a song started playing and Fitz abruptly stood up, muttering with a false smile something about a ‘fresh air break’ before he left.

“Numb.” Hunter noticed Simmons' confused look and pointed to the speaker. “He hates this song.”

“Oh, like with ‘Angels’?” She remembered how he had begged Skye to turn it off when they were at their apartment.

“Worse. He literally can’t stand this one, he won’t even start complaining about it, he just leaves. Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He indeed did come back after a moment, walking through the bar like nothing had happened, eating some Doritos he’d probably bought at the closest convenience store. Simmons stopped herself from asking about it, knowing that he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. They just resumed where they had left off. Not even half an hour later Hunter had to go, leaving them alone with Bobbi, which Jemma had to remind herself about a few times during the evening, since she was drawn more and more into conversation with Fitz.

“So, I have to go,” said Bobbi, standing up from her chair and looking at the two scientists talking with enthusiasm, their heads bowed low and close to each other. “Because I have... stuff to do,” she added, furrowing her brow when neither of them even looked at her. “Somewhere else. So I’ll go now and leave the two of you alone. Judging by how you haven’t even noticed that I’m speaking to you, I guess you’ll have fun, so see you.” She smiled and left, looking behind her a few times to see if they would finally see that she had left.

They didn’t, which caused her to smile, content with a job well done.

It took exactly 18 minutes for Fitz to realise they were alone in the bar and remember that Bobbi had indeed said something about leaving.

“I should probably go home now,” he said, immediately reaching for his jacket.

“Do you really have to?” Simmons asked, looking him in the eye with a silent plea, recognising the pattern immediately. They had been in a group, everything was fine, but the moment the prospect of the two of them alone outside of work appeared, Fitz was gone.

He looked at her face, lit up with shy hope, and couldn’t bring himself to crush it.

“Not really,” he admitted.

She just smiled, watching with relief as he put his jacket back on the chair next to him, happy that for once he had stayed instead of running away the moment they were left alone.

They stayed quite long, to the point where the bar was half-empty and thepeople who were left were very loud and couldn’t grasp the idea of not being offended by the slightest thing, which was the main reason Fitz and Simmons finally decided to call it a night. It was way too late for the buses to run and Jemma was grateful that she lived close enough for a cab drive in the middle of the night to not ruin her budget. She started looking for her phone in her purse, not minding the tiny raindrops that were falling on her head.  

“I’ll walk you home,” Fitz proposed suddenly, and she looked at him a little too fast, a little too surprised, any thought of calling a taxi flowing out of her mind immediately. “That is, if you want, I mean, if you don’t mind,” he explained, scraping his neck a little with his hand. “I’m not suggesting that you won’t be able to go on your own or anything-”

“No, that… that would would be so nice of you,” she said quickly, not wanting him to back away, and happy at the prospect. “I don’t live that far,” she added. “Which of course you know, since, you know, you’ve been there. When I invited you,” She scrunched her nose when her brain once again refused to stay cool.

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” he nodded with a tiny chuckle, and they started walking slowly, stumbling a little over their words until they once again slipped into pleasant conversation.

Soon they were forced to move a lot faster, since the rain was getting stronger and stronger, and she had just a tiny umbrella that was not possible to share at all. Fitz was hiding his head under his thin jacket, and her elegant flats were not really warm or comfortable when water was pouring down her legs.

Finally at her flat and preparing to open the door, she turned to Fitz to thank him, and noticed him shivering a little, his jacket completely soaked.

“See you at work on Monday.” He smiled at her and started turning, when an impulsive idea hit her.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, biting her lip to hide her nervousness, wondering what kind of excuse he would find this time.

He looked back at her, taken aback.

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s... not the best idea, I’m-”

“Busy?”

“No. I just should go back home.”

There was no disappointmen, since the answer didn’t surprise her anymore. She just rolled her eyes in irritation, taking a step closer to him.

“Really?” She raised her hand and started counting. “It’s the middle of the night. It’s raining. Your jacket is soaked and you don’t even have a hood. Your home is a good half an hour from here. And yet you’d rather go sick than spend the night in a warm place, just because it’s _my_ place?” She looked at him pointedly but he remained silent, slightly surprised that she was calling him on it. “I’m not offering you tea and a passionate night, only a warm couch.”

He laughed at that and stood there hiding his mouth behind his hand for a few seconds while she patiently waited for his reply.

“All right,” he finally said. “All right, you win. I’ll stay.”

She smiled and turned away from him to finally open the door.

* * *

 

She did make him tea in the end. They were British and there was no subtext in the beverage, just hot water, sweet sugar and a little bitterness of the leaves. No hidden meaning at all.

They were drinking, half sitting and half lying on her sofa in front of the TV, not really paying attention to the screen; just exchanging lazy remarks about loosely-connected topics. It was getting so late, that soon it would be early and yet neither of them even mentioned words ‘tired’ or ‘sleep’.

The disaster movie that was playing in the background was not very interesting, so they were just commenting loudly on it, saying clearly what they thought about the plot, the supposed ‘threat’ and the writer’s intelligence. When the end credits started rolling Simmons somehow ended up with her head on Fitz’s shoulder. After some flipping over chanels they found one with upbeat music that would hopefuly keep them awake. It wasn’t until Fitz was happily singing along with Taylor Swift that Simmons couldn’t really stay relaxed and felt the feeling of confusion creeping in.

“ _Can you believe it? As we’re lying on the couch?_ ” he sang quietly, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip, thinking that surely he had to hear what exactly he was singing. Yet he continued like there was nothing out of the ordinary. “ _Do you remember, we were sitting there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time._ ” This time for a change he followed the lyrics.

It was impossible to miss the meaning of the song, how it correlated with their situation, and yet there he was, singing happily about a pair of people: one the child of a divorced couple afraid of getting close and another one who was refusing to give up. It was simply too much for her to handle.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked when the song was finally over.

“What?” He didn’t understand her at first.

“Why do you turn some songs off?” she asked, wanting to solve at least one mystery. “Like 'Numb'. You just stormed out of the bar the moment it started playing.”

“I don't like that song.” He tried to shrug it off.

“Is... Is it because of your father?” she asked, knowing that he had nowhere to run this time. Maybe it was insensitive of her but she had spent half a year trying to figure him out and she needed more clues. “Because he left?”

“I just don't see the purpose of sad songs. People have enough disappointment and problems in their lives. Songs are for entertainment. They should help people forget about bad things, not remind of them.”

“But some of these songs are beautiful, just the way they are. Even if they are a little sad, they’re true.”

“Songs aren’t made to be true. They are made to raise the spirit. To motivate and give hope. Not to remind you that you’re a failure. That’s something our mind does every day on its own, no need to aid it.” He twisted a little in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, and Simmons felt guilty for even starting it. Still, there was a tiny part of her that was content that he was still speaking with her about difficult things instead of running away.

“So you change true songs into a bunch of lies, because the truth is too painful to handle?” She tried to understand, but she just found it sad.

“No. I change sad, pessimistic songs into what it should be. That’s the way things should work, and just because it doesn’t always do, doesn’t mean we should forget how it should be. One has to remember ideas that should be followed in life.”

“So you sing about happy things, like love conquering all, even though you don’t believe it’s truly possibile?” She tried to remain cool and not let him see that this question was far more important to her than all of the half-asleep talk they’d had by now.

“I do,” he said, not looking at her but fixing his eyes on the screen. “It’s a beautiful dream to have. It gives people hope and makes them happy. It gives people something to believe in and makes all of the bad experiences worth it. That’s why I keep changing lyrics, because that’s what people should repeat to themselves: that there are good things waiting at the end of the road. Music is about making life brighter, not darker. It should be showing people what to dream about. Happiness and love are one of those dreams.”

“You don’t look like a person who goes around the world trying to make those dreams come true,” she pointed, out looking at him carefully, not wanting to miss anything, not even the tiniest detail that would help her understand.

“Dreams are just that- dreams.” He shrugged and his face darkened a little. “If you try to make a dream come true it crashes and you have nothing left. Not even a dream to look to.”

“They don’t have to crash.” She moved a little closer, trying to make him understand that if he just tried, she was right there. “You can’t know that until you try.”

“Simmons, I’ve had enough experience to prove my thesis,” he rolled his eyes. “My parents were happy and in love and couldn’t see the world beside the other. Until I got in the way.” She felt him tense and saw his nails digging into the fabric of his jeans. “I ruined it and my father left, leaving my mother crushed while he was chasing his dreams of a happy, lovely family. I tried to date when I was younger and it always ended in disaster, no matter how hard I tried to not hurt anyone. Always. Every single time, I ruin everything. I’m a dream crusher, that’s the truth. Love is a nice thing but it just doesn’t work for me. So I’ll live my life as happily as I can, without ruining somebody’s else. It’s not worth it, at the end you’re left with nothing but pain.”

She tried to think of something to say, but she was overwhelmed with information that she had no idea how to interpret. She knew that he was wrong with his logic, and that there had to be something she could say to convince him to give himself a chance, not to mention giving her, them, a chance, but she had no idea how to fix it on her own. It wasn’t really something she could make a simulation of and show him the results.

“It’s almost 4am,” he noticed, looking at his watch. “I think that’s enough serious talk for one night, we should go to sleep before the night’s over and we don’t have a lot of time left to do that.” He tried to lighten the mood with a lame joke.

Simmons didn’t want to go anywhere. It was too nice, and Fitz was responding to her questions, clearing things up, but she knew that her mind was too tired to process everything effectively. She couldn’t find the right thing to say right then, couldn’t think of any solution, so maybe a little rest would be a good idea. They would still have the morning, they could continue after they woke up, during breakfast. Maybe then, with her mind fresh and full of renewed energy, she would find the right answer, even though he wasn’t asking anything.

So she just nodded and stood up, murmuring a sleepy ‘good night’ and slowly going to her bedroom. She expected some trouble with falling asleep, but it was so late that she simply crawled into her bed and immediately started dreaming.

Waking up a lot later than usual, she jumped out of her bed the moment the memories of the previous day and night hit her. Catching her robe and quickly putting it on, she went to the living room to ask Fitz what he wanted to eat for breakfast. What she found instead was a neatly-folded blanket and a piece of paper laying on the coffee table, held down by one of her figurines. She came closer, fighting with the disappointment that was wiping her smile away from her face.

_Didn’t want to wake you up. Thanks for yesterday._

Well, at least this time it wasn’t his usual ‘ _okay_ ’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Because Of You" by Kelly Clarkson


	14. Choose your path and walk away

It was a normal, peaceful day until Fitz’s phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket, surprised, then looked at the screen and paled instantly, murmuring something about how he had to take the call, walking quickly out of the lab. Simmons looked after him, concerned, but waited for him to come back, wondering what could have happened. After a few minutes, she was still alone in the room, and it started being a little disturbing. She took her gloves off, moved to the door, opened it and looked around, searching for her him. He was nowhere to be seen, so she walked down the corridor, trying to think of any place he could have gone.

Fitz was just around the corner, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his hand a tight fist slamming the wall next to him over and over with a strength that had to leave bruises on his skin, if not worse. She rushed to him and caught his hand before he could hit the wall again. He looked at her in confusion, as if surprised to see her there, his eyes miles away from where they were.

“What happened?” she asked, still holding his hand in hers, hoping it would help him calm down.

He closed his eyes again, pulling his head back, resting it on the wall.

“Fitz?” Trying again, she moved her other hand to his forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, blinking a few times before looking at her again.

“Fitz...” she said again, trying to figure out how to help. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you want-”

“Come on, we have work to do.” He moved away from the wall, his hand slipping away from hers.

She followed him quietly, knowing better than to push for answers. All she could do was be there in case he reached for her; she hoped that he would. For the next twenty minutes they stubbornly got their work done, but she could easily tell the difference from their normal routine. Fitz’s hands were shaking, things were slipping out of them and falling from his work table, his eyes were unfocused and his mind far away, analysing problems that had nothing to do with the lab.

“I have to go, I have to talk with May,” he blurted suddenly, while putting-or more like slamming-his screwdriver onto the table and storming out of the room before she could even properly nod. Whatever happened must have been bad, since Fitz hadn’t even put his tools back to their proper place, like he always did.

* * *

 

This time Melinda May wasn’t so easy to convince. She was stubborn and he couldn’t change her mind, no matter what he said. Fitz couldn’t even bring himself to ask the question that had been silently eating him for weeks, not when her answer to his simple request was so strict. He stood there, looking at her sadly shaking her head once again, and pointing at the timetable. The realisation that there was only one thing left for him to do was slowly sinking in. He didn’t like that prospect at all.

He controlled himself enough not to slam the door as he was leaving, but then he stormed through the corridors to the bathroom and smashed the door shut behind him, happy that he was there alone. His hands crashed onto the sink as he bent his head low, trying to calm down and find a solution, even though he knew there wasn’t one-nothing but the one he already knew. His eyes caught sight of a soap dish and a small vase with an artificial flower, and with one swift motion he pushed them away from the ceramic surface, the sound of glass shattering on the hard floor not enough to soothe his pain.

It was not fair.

Not fair, not fair not fair.

 _Serves me right for being so careless_ , he thought, finally surrendering to sorrow. He should have remembered how it always ended. He should have known better. Life wasn’t a song, where everything somehow worked out in the end and everyone got to live happily and carefree. He should have known better than to allow himself a few moments of weakness, in the foolish belief that maybe this time something, anything, would be different.

* * *

 

Whatever happened that memorable afternoon, the effects gloomed over them both for weeks. Simmons could see it each time they were in the same room. Fitz tried to behave normally, she had to give him that-he was still speaking to her, helping her, working and even joking, but it was clear that his mind wasn’t really there, that there was no happy smile behind his humour. She tried asking him about it, but each time he either waved the matter off, or just looked away with a pained expression that made her heart sink, wishing that she never asked. With each day he was clearly more tired, probably overworking himself in his part time job in order to keep his mind busy and distracted.

After a week she accepted the fact that he wouldn’t tell her what was wrong and decided to focus on cheering him up, or at least taking his mind away from his problems. So she started sneaking the more difficult parts of their project away from him so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. She brought him tea and made sure that there were only cheerful, optimistic songs playing on the radio, trying to figure out how she could help him. He always thanked her with a pale but grateful smile, his tired eyes catching just a shadow of sparkle when he looked at her, but they always dimmed again only a moment later. He never explained what was bothering him.

“Gee, Simmons, let it go,” Skye whined while sitting in their living room in front of her laptop, helping her search for the best ways to cheer someone up. “You’re overdoing it. As much as I like Fitz and as much as I was encouraging you, it’s clearly not working between you two and you have to chill. It will work on its own or it won’t, and you’ll find a better guy. What are you, a masochist?”

“It’s not like that, Skye.” Simmons shook her head, tearing her eyes away for a second from a page about making origami cranes as a gift. “You don’t get it. It’s not that he’s simply being a jerk or ignoring me. It’s... He’s always there for me. Always. With work problems, with personal problems, with me simply feeling awful because of hormones. He’s there, supporting me or making me smile or just being there in case I need him. But each time I try to do the same, to be there for him, he pushes me away before I manage to get closer. He’s a good guy, he just doesn’t let _me_ be good for _him_.”

“Whatever. You can’t see what I can see, Simmons. And what I’ve seen is that the two of you are practically dating without the actual dating part. You hang out every chance you get, you talk non-stop, you always sit next to each other at lunch, he brings you drinks and takes your coat and you text him first thing in the morning, I’ve seen you. What will be next, sleeping on his arm?” Simmons tried to hide her face behind her hair and was grateful that Skye was too occupied with her rambling to notice her guilty look. “It may look sweet to you, but the truth is he hasn’t done a thing to change anything, because it’s convenient for him. He gets all the perks without the cons, and he doesn’t even have to make an effort. I’m just worried about you. I’m afraid that he’s keeping you on the hook.” Skye had entered full lecturing mode and there was no stopping her. “He uses you, like... an emergency exit. In case, you know, he doesn’t find someone better, he could always go to you if he needs a plus one to go somewhere or to just burden someone with his problems.”

“He never did,” Simmons whispered, pulling her hands into fists.

“What?”

“He never asked me to go anywhere with him,” she explained. “I did. More than once. And he never, ever complained to me. About anything. Not even when he had to clean my mess up at the conference, or convince the board to keep listening to my presentation. But he was always there every single time I felt awful because Hand was being difficult or because I was too tired to move. So who is using who here, Skye? Because he’s never been anything but good and nice to me.”

Skye was silent for a moment, looking at her with sad eyes.

“Maybe,” she finally admitted. “But as you yourself pointed out many times, he also never implied that he would like to move past that.”

Simmons just grit her teeth and went back to searching.

* * *

 

She thought she was ready the next day. The plan was carefully thought-out, each detail taken into consideration, and even Skye had given up on whining and trying to change her mind. Simmons waited patiently for their lunch break before casually starting a conversation and smoothly circling around topics until she got close enough to the one she really wanted to talk about.

“There’s an exhibit in a the science museum,” she started, looking at Fitz picking at his food and barely eating anything. “About a variety of species with the highest DNA similarity to humans, so of course most of it is about monkeys. They changed their garden into a zoo exhibit and they’ve got 25 species of monkeys there. It’s more than an hour away from here, but I thought that maybe if you would like to… um, maybe we could go there on Saturday?” She waited for his reply, hoping that she had been right, and would finally make him smile.

“I can’t go.” He looked at her with sad eyes.

Another plan failed, then. But this time she was prepared and didn’t let it ruin everything. She was ready to propose something else when surprisingly, Fitz beat her to it.

“We could go to a park on Sunday though. For a walk or something.” He started twisting his hands, a little nervous. “In the, you know, park? With trees and all that?”

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of a proper answer so she just nodded her head enthusiastically for a few seconds, unable to believe her luck. “Yes, that’s... that’s a really lovely idea, it would be nice to go there and... and see the trees.” She would start rambling in a second, she just knew it. “Oh, we could go on a picnic! If the weather is nice, that is. I mean, it would be best if it’s nice, if we are going for a walk, but even if it rains it might be fun too, we could just make a fort of... of umbrellas over the blanket,” she slowed down a little, noticing his stare and the slight shadow of a smile on his face. “I’ll make some food,” she promised.

* * *

 

Luckily Sunday was as sunny as the name suggested and she didn’t have to worry about rain ruining the day. She made all the best snacks she could think of and paced impatiently through the apartment until Fitz came to pick her up. There was still something eating him up; he seemed more nervous than usual and no matter what she tried to do, it wouldn’t go away. After 20 minutes of a walk full of forced smiles and pretty but empty words they finally sat down on a blanket spread over the grass, talking about the latest science articles. She took a thermos with hot tea out of her bag and poured some into the plastic cups she’d brought. She handed one to Fitz and then took out her ace in the hole: her famous prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich, with just a hint of her homemade pesto aioli, a combination that had never let her down before. She handed one to Fitz, who thanked her with a small smile.

“How’s it?” she asked a little nervously after he took a bite, hoping that at least the sandwich might cheer him up.

He looked up at her with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite name, but it made her feel anxious.

“It’s delicious,” he said, his voice deadly serious.

“Really?” She smiled happily at him, not noticing his fingers drumming restlessly and his face tensing. “That’s-”

“I’m moving to Shanghai,” he blurted, closing his eyes with pained expression.

“What?” She felt colder in an instant and the park had somehow gotten a lot more quiet, everything around her narrowed to him and the nonsense he’d just said.

“I’m moving.” He opened his eyes and looked at her, taking a shaky breath. “Right after our project is finished.”

There was silence, and she couldn’t comprehend what was happening or how to stop it.

“B-but why?” she finally managed to stutter.

He blinked a few times and looked away, at people walking in the distance and sighed again.

“Advanced Idea Mechanics offered me a contract job there. I agreed this Tuesday,” he admitted.

“You don’t want to work here anymore?” She was desperately looking for something that made sense, because she couldn’t just accuse him of making that decision without her; she had no right to that.

“I do. It’s a great job and S.H.I.E.L.D. is giving me a lot of bonuses, but... well, the pay I’ll get there is better than the one I have here.” He looked at her as if searching for something. “Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. never mentioned anything about prolonging my contract or the possibility of a salary raise.”

“Can... can’t you find something else here? There’s a lot of other research companies, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the only one.” She didn’t want to sound pathetic but couldn’t really help herself.

“They’ve given me really good terms, Jemma.”

“But they make weapons,” she tried. “Most of their contracts are from the military.”

“I know, and that part sucks, but the salary is really good and it’s not like I have that many other options.”

She was silent for a long moment, trying to process it all and find a solution. She couldn’t.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said finally, slowly and carefully. “You like this job, I know you do. I know for a fact that you hate working for the military, you’ve mentioned it more than once. S.H.I.E.L.D. gives you so many opportunities, so many fields and projects to choose from. And... and we could work together more, we’ve only just started and we... I thought that we could build something good. Together,” she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re throwing all of this away, the possibilities and our relationship and everything, just because they’re giving you more money? I don’t believe it.”

“I need money,” he said, but Simmons was still staring at him, daring him to finally say what was really going on. “My mum, you’ve seen her. She’s sick. She needs medication. That phone call, that was about her. She fainted.” Simmons’ look shifted to alarmed, but he just shook his head. “She’s all right, nothing serious happened, but she had a checkup and apparently she needs some additional medicine, and I can’t afford them with this salary.  She’s doesn’t work.” He answered the question before she could convince herself to ask it. “She was a seamstress and she can’t sew with shaky hands. Do you know how much her meds cost? Oh, sure the basic ones are affordable, but the others? The ones that are not absolutely necessary but would actually make her better? Let’s just say they are not cheap. I work at S.H.I.E.L.D., I deliver, I do some online tutoring, I sell patents, and it’s still not enough to cover the expenses of living for both of us and her medication.”

She couldn’t find a way to fix this. Not on her own at least.

“Maybe if you tell this to S.H.I.E.L.D., they would-” she started.

“I asked May if I could go visit just after Mum fainted,” he interrupted impatiently. “She wouldn’t allow it. Said that we have a deadline and I could go on a weekend. Somehow I doubt they would renew my contract with better terms just because my mother is sick.”

Silence fell on them then and they sat there avoiding each other’s eyes, the food she’d carefully prepared that morning long forgotten and their tea turned cold.

“Why haven’t you told me?” she asked, looking up at him and trying to be strong.

“Because it’s my problem. No reason to throw it on your head too.”

“But I could have helped! I could have thought of something to do about it! Or...or at least be there for you,” she added quietly. “And now you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“Well, we could still be... we could still talk. By phone or online or just e-mails,” she said, hoping to find something, anything positive that would help her. “We can still keep... this,” she motioned awkwardly between them. “Maybe I could come visit, or there might be a conference and-”

“Stop it, Simmons.” He tried to make his voice determined but she could hear the pain in it. “It won’t work. It never works. I have to leave and you’re staying here. So let’s just... leave things as they are. No need to dwell on possibilities and make it any more complicated than it already is.” She looked at him closely, because his word choice was odd, to say the least.

“Why? Why not? Why won’t you just take a risk and try?” she asked. “Just because it didn’t work before doesn’t mean that this time it will be the same. You can’t know how it will end if you haven’t even given it a chance and tried.”

“I told you,” he reminded her. “It never works for me. Relationships, love, it never works for me. The only person that’s stayed with me is my mother and that’s because she’s my mother. Everyone else just keeps leaving, and I can’t really blame them. I ruin things. Life is full of tragedy, so I’m just trying to make it less hurtful for the people around me. That’s why it’s better to just leave the possibilities. You can’t get hurt if you don’t try. At the end you’d just be disappointed that the effort was not worth it.” He stopped himself, realising that he had got too emotional, said too much. “That’s why we should just say goodbye. That’s the best way, for us, to just take our own paths before things get complicated and you get hurt. You’ll be all right, you’ll see. Time will pass and everything will be fine. I know you’re sad now, but you’ll get over it.”

“Why are you so concerned about me?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t understand and you never explain anything!”

“Because I don’t want to trouble you!” he blurted. “Because I care about you and don’t want you to get hurt!”

The world around her swayed a little, because that was _it_. That was the sign she had been hoping and waiting for the whole time. That was the sign that Fitz actually cared about her. That was him admitting that he felt something besides friendship towards her. And just after he had crossed off all hope for them, she could clearly see what she had been trying to figure out for months- Fitz liked her too, but he wasn’t letting himself, sure that he would just end up hurting her.

And it did indeed hurt.

“I mean, look at us,” he said, noticing her expression and clearly misreading it. “I can’t even take you for a walk without ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to be that way,” he apologized with sadness and regret. “I wanted today to be happy and pleasant, so that we could have a nice time together before I leave. I was going to tell you tomorrow, at work, but I just couldn’t... hold it in anymore. I’m sorry that I ruined your Sunday.”

She just shook her head, focusing on something he had said, something important that had caught her attention, that connected with the things she’d been thinking about ever since he told her why he changed the words to songs.

“Memories,” she finally realised. “You have memories.”

“What?” He looked at her confused, and a little worried.

“After it all ends, you have beautiful memories that make the sad things worth it,” she explained. “It makes it worth it to try, even when you are almost sure you’ll fail.”

She sat there, waiting for his response, hoping that he would understand, that she could somehow change his mind. Instead he just looked at her, sadness and resignation evident in his eyes.

* * *

 

When Simmons came back home, she barely noticed anything around her, focusing only on getting to her room and hiding under her covers, hoping that the pain wouldn’t find her there. She threw her shoes off and walked slowly through the flat, her face an unmoving mask.

It wasn’t fair. After all of that, this was the end? They would just get separated and everything would be over before it even started?

“Simmons?” Skye called from the sofa, concerned by her friend’s defeated state. “What has he done?”

“Don’t.” Simmons shook her head, not feeling like having a conversation. “Just… don’t. Not now.”

“Jemma-”

“Please,” she pleaded, her voice empty and weak. “I just… need to be alone for a moment.”

Skye didn’t look convinced, but she nodded hesitantly.

“You were right,” Simmons admitted quietly when she made it to her door.

Fitz didn’t want to move forward and she had to finally let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Running Away" by Skowyt (from "The Witcher" Soundtrack)
> 
> Making origami cranes is an idea from How to Cheer Someone Up (with Tips and Examples) because we all know that Simmons would research it first.


	15. But we got bills to pay. We got nothing figured out.

“You don’t look very cheerful.” Bobbi’s voice forced Simmons out of her daze, and she blinked at her untouched food. “Something happened?”

“Why do you think so?” Simmons looked at her with tired eyes.

“You’re sitting alone during your lunch break,” she pointed out. “That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Fitz is... busy.” Pushing her food around the plate was a good distraction and let her escape Bobbi’s stare, but apparently it was not enough for the tall blonde to leave her alone since she took a sit next to her.

They sat like that in silence, Jemma playing with her food more than eating it, Bobbi looking at her with an intensity that was worthy of interrogation.

“Do you think that A.I.M. would hire me?” Simmons asked suddenly, looking away from her plate.

“Why would you want to work for them?” Bobbi looked at her, trying not to let surprise show on her face. “You’re not satisfied with your work here?”

“No, it’s not that... it’s... well they have this project in Shanghai and...”

“What’s the project about?”

“I... I don’t really know.” Admitting this made her feel a little stupid for even bringing it up, especially since Bobbi just intensified her gaze, demanding an explanation. “Fitz is going to work on it and so I thought-”

“That you’d go after him? Do you even hear yourself?” Disbelief was clear in her voice.

“No, I... You’re right, it’s stupid.” There was no hope. Fitz had been very clear about that. No need to get desperate.

“Sure it is. But what were you saying? Fitz is going to work for them? He’s not prolonging his contract?”

“He said S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t want to prolong it,” Simmons shrugged. “Besides, he’s not so happy about his current terms and they’ve given him better ones.”

“So that’s what’s got you down today? That he’s changing jobs?”

“It’s game over.” Simmons just shook her head sadly. “And just after he... he, uhm...” She couldn’t find the words.

“He told you how he feels?” Bobbi moved closer, curious.

“Kind of. Not really. Well.” She tried to figure out how to explain that he hadn’t said it, but it had been heavily implied. “He didn’t use any big words, but he admitted that he cares about me and doesn’t want to hurt me. And that because of that, it would be better if we just... don’t try for anything more. I...I just need time to accept that.”

“The last thing you need is to accept that.” Bobbi nudged her with her elbow. “It’s not over unless you want it to be. You giving up, that’s the game over.”

“He’s moving to the other side of the world,” Simmons whined, not having enough stranght to deal with it all then.

“You know how many times Hunter and I were separated by the whole planet? And yet each time, the world was too tiny to keep us apart. Hey, look at me.” Bobbi raised her voice to catch her full attention. “I know Fitz, he’s been Hunter’s friend for a while. I convinced Coulson to give him a shot with this job, because I know he’s not a bad guy. I know you. And I’ve seen the two of you together. I don’t care how you label yourself, I know what I’ve seen.” She spoke with a sure and steady voice, glad that Simmons was listening carefully. “The point is- don’t give up. There are always problems and obstacles and it’ll always be easier to just walk away. But don’t give up. If you give up, that’s the end. Do you want this,” she waved a hand at Simmons and her lunch. “To be the end?”

“No,” Simmons whispered, not taking her eyes off Bobbi.

“Then don’t allow it. Tell him that. Do something. Something smart, something stupid, anything.”

Simmons nodded, having found her resolution again. There had to be something she could do. It was not the end. She would make it the beginning.

* * *

 

“... and so I think that the results will be even better than we predicted.” Simmons finished her long and detailed report.

“Mhm.” Director Coulson wasn’t really excited. “Now, tell me Simmons, do you think this tie,” he pointed to the scrap of material hanging on his neck, “would be enough for Golden Garden, or should I change it for this one?” He took another one from his desk and showed it to her.

“Another dinner with Miss Audrey?” Simmons sighed. “I’d go with the other one, if I were you, sir.”

“Thank you.” He smiled with contentment. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, yes, that’s all I had to report.”

Coulson nodded his head and waved his hand to show her she could leave. She stood from her seat and hesitated for a second when a thought came to her mind.

“Sir,” she started. “About Fitz. I know his contract is ending soon, and that I’m not in the HR department, but since I’m one of the key employees in the science department I’d like to give my opinion about him.”

Coulson looked at her and nodded in encouragement. Simmons gulped and took a deep breath, trying to stay professional, sticking with logic.

“He’s a brilliant engineer and a great asset for the company,” she started. “I’d recommend making a contract extension, since losing him would be a shame.” She stopped, wondering if she wasn’t going too far. But each word she said was true, and it was not just her subjective opinions and emotions. “If I may add, if the company would indeed consider him as a long-time employee, offering him a salary at his current level would be simply an insult. He knows the value of his mind and the company should too,” she finished.

Coulson was looking at her with a curious expression, like he was trying to guess what she wasn’t telling him, which made her uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s all,” she added. “Thank you for your attention,” She left as fast as she could, not sure if she had actually helped or only made things worse.

Coulson stared at the locked door to his office for a moment before reaching for his phone.

“May? When is Fitz’s contract expiring? What? And you still haven’t spoken with him about the extension? Well, hurry up, we don’t want someone else to steal him from us. Even Simmons is worried now.”

* * *

 

This time, it was he who came to her first. He just stood there, at the door to their lab, staring at her in disbelief.

“Fitz?” Simmons asked, not sure what had happened and how to react. He was behaving strangely, even for him. “Did something happen?” He just nodded in response. “Something about the project?”

He nodded again and took a step closer to her.

“I’ve just spoken with May,” he said quietly. “They want to start selling it next week.” He motioned to the lab table, where one of the prototypes was lying. “She said that they already have five contractors and orders for almost 3000 devices.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

“That’s wonderful.” She smiled brightly, but she could see that there was still something else.

“She offered me a full-time contract.” He took another step closer, a smile creeping over his face. “With better salary and some bonuses.” Another step, and she was fighting to not get too thrilled, reminding herself that he had signed on with A.I.M. already. But it was a part-time job, so maybe the penalty for breaking wouldn’t be too big. If S.H.I.E.L.D. really wanted him to stay, then maybe, just maybe, they’d agree to cover it for him... “One of them is medical insurance for the whole family.” Another step and he was smiling brightly now. “My mother would get everything she needs, it’s covered, I just checked.”

“But A.I.M...,” she pointed out, desperate to kill the last of the doubts over what he was trying to tell her. “You already signed...”

“The contract is for a project, not time. If I buck up I could probably get it done in three weeks, and Coulson’s already agreed to wait for me for as long as I need.”

“So you are-” she said, taking a step closer and stopping just in front to him.

“I’m staying here,” he nodded. “Well, I’ll go to Shanghai for awhile, but I’ll be right back.”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, too glad to worry over being professional and keeping her distance. He hugged her back, laughing, and for a moment she believed that everything would be all right. He’d stay and they would figure things out since now their problems had disappeared.

Simmons couldn’t stop herself anymore, not with him being so close that she could smell his cologne and feel his warmth. Not with him looking into her eyes and smiling. She got onto her tiptoes and moved closer, catching his arm for support and raising her head, lifting her lips to his.

Fitz moved his head down, bending his neck just slightly, so that his forehead met hers and gently stopped her. She was close enough to see each eyelash on his closed eyes, to notice the muscles on his face tensing in restraint and something close to pain, which was unexpected. She was too far away to kiss him, separated by the distance he’d put between them. Again.

Their problems hadn’t disappeared; it was just a tiny one that had, leaving the true, bigger ones behind. If the money were their only issue it would have been all too easy to fix. But it wasn’t.  

Yet, she had gotten her determination back. As long as she had anything to say, this was not over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Mine" by Taylor Swift


	16. So let me come to you, close as I wanna be

The project was a huge success and Simmons couldn’t stop people from congratulating her when she was walking across the corridors, not to mention stopping Skye from throwing a celebration party. Luckily, she at least agreed to organise a tiny one on Saturday, just a gathering at karaoke with their friends to celebrate the end of the project as well as wishing Fitz good luck and a fast return from Shanghai.

She had a plan. She was Jemma Simmons, preparation was her middle name, of course she had a plan. But this plan was different. She had no more strength to deal with the emotional roller coaster she’d been on, so she decided to just jump and see if it would work.

The worst part of implementation, as always, was waiting impatiently, trying to smile at her friends while in her head visions of the future were running, twisting and mixing, so many possibilities. Soon she would have a clear answer. Sitting there, she tried to remain calm, to chat with Bobbi and Hunter and to be happy about how well Skye got along with Trip, the both of them sitting there, laughing and fooling around.

Unfortunately for her, there were obstacles. One of them was that Fitz was late and he still hadn’t arrived when it was her turn to sing. She stood up and went to the stage, praying with all her might that he would show up soon, that he wouldn’t be late, because that would just be stupid.

The music started playing and she nervously looked around the crowd, desperate to find him. He was nowhere to be seen.

“ _Whenever I sang my songs, on the stage, on my own,_ ” she started, her voice quiet and wavering uncertainly, wishing that she had practiced more, since apparently three days were not enough to get rid of performance anxiety. “ _I saw you smiling at me. Was it real or just my fantasy?_ ” He still wasn’t there. Her hand started to tremble and the smiling faces of her friends were only just slightly helping to soothe her nerves.

The song continued and Simmons somehow managed to make her voice a little louder, still not able to stop looking around with hope while still fighting disappointment.

“ _Darling, so there you are_.” Still no sign of Fitz. “ _With that look on your face. As if you're never hurt._ ” Now she really regretted choosing a song that was almost 5 minutes long. “ _As if you're never down. Shall I be the one for you?_ ”

She finally saw his fair curls in the crowd, which caused her to smile happily, noticing how he was looking straight at her. He smiled back and waved at her. She stood there on the stage, feeling much better now that he was there, hoping that he would remember one of their first talks and would understand how important it was for her; how much she wanted to tell him something with her song.

“ _Darling, so share with me. Your love if you have enough._ ” Her smile brightened and her voice became more sure and strong. “ _Your tears if you're holding back. Or pain if that's what it is._ ” He was moving through the room, trying to get to the table their friends occupied, but he was still glancing back at her. “ _Just reach me out then. You would know that you're not dreaming,_ ” she sang happily, hoping her plan would work after all.

When she finished singing she was positively surprised by the amount of applause she received. Smiling and a little anxious, she went back to the table, wondering what his reaction would be. It stung her lightly when she noticed that he was sitting on the other side of the table, next to Trip, with whom he was talking about something. It was  too far for a private conversation with her. She put her hand on the backrest of her chair, pulling it back so she could sit, not really hearing what Bobbi was saying to her.

“Hi Simmons,” Fitz waved at her. “Nice singing.” He smiled and went back to his conversation.

To said that disappointment swallowed her whole would have been an understatement. She couldn’t believe that he would just... ignore the implication of what she just done, but apparently he had.

Telling herself repeatedly to be brave, she somehow managed to stay there for 40 minutes before excusing herself, mumbling something about being tired, and thanked everyone for coming.  Then she went back to her flat. Maybe she would feel slightly better safely locked in her room with her blanket and a big bowl of ice cream. Locking the flat’s door behind her, she did felt safer, but at the same time she no longer had the motivation to hold herself together. She kept telling herself that first she had to change and take the ice cream out of the fridge; only then could she start crying. It wasn’t easy to hold back, because her mind kept replaying the events over and over and she couldn’t believe that Fitz had just ignored her, like it had been nothing important. After everything, after he’d admitted that he cared, after she’d told him that she would never sing because it was way too personal and yet did it for him, he just acted like nothing happened. Tears were already forming in her eyes as she made it to her bed and realized that this was it.

She’d jumped, and the crash when she hit the ground was too painful to ever stand back up from.

_Game over._

* * *

 

“What the hell, man!” Trip hit Fitz’s arm the moment Simmons disappeared. “You were just ignoring her the whole evening, what’s wrong with you?”

“What?” Fitz moved away from the taller man. “I told you, it’s not like that. Stop interfering already.”

“But you like that girl.” Trip looked at him pointedly, keeping his voice low enough for nobody else to hear it. “Come on man, I’ve seen enough, you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fitz spat through his teeth. “It wouldn’t work anyway. Better to finish it before someone gets hurt. I’m not righ-”

“Gee, Fitz.” Hunter apparently had better hearing than expected. “I’ve known you for five years and it’s always the same old excuse _‘It won’t work, just the same as with my father, I’m not the right person for this stuff’_. Stop with it already, mate.” He looked at Fitz and waved his beer to make his point clear. “Stop punishing yourself and defining yourself by what your father did. It was his doing, not yours. You did nothing wrong, well, except for what you’ve just done, but you know, nothing so bad as to earn you all these sanctions you brought upon yourself. You deserve your happiness, so just go and grab it.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Fitz repeated stubbornly. He had to stick with it, no matter how hard and painful it was.

“Well, sorry to bring this to you.” Hunter’s gestures with his beer were getting dangerous, so Bobbi took it away from him, not even looking away from Skye and their conversation. “But guess what you just did.”

Fitz furrowed his brows, not really understanding, and waved at Hunter to back off and mind his own business.

But Hunter was proud of calling himself a friend and giving relationship advice, so of course he continued.

“I mean it Fitz. You are running all the time, focusing so much on not being like your father, that you... you made a circle and ran right back into him. And you haven’t even noticed!”

It took Fitz a moment for the meaning to sink in. As surprising as it was to admit, Hunter was right and suddenly he could see it. He was indeed running away from complications and leaving instead of trying to fix problems: just like his father did. It made him sick as he finally put everything together and looked at it without his old _‘don’t get close, don’t get hurt’_ glasses. He’d been trying to protect himself and Simmons but still ended up hurting her and making them both unhappy, without even memories of better times to make it all worth it. He’d turned into his father and if he wanted to break free of that sick circle he had to take a risk and change something.

“Yeah, took you long enough,” said Trip, noticing the change on Fitz’s face.

“Really, for a genius sometimes you are quite dumb,” nodded Hunter. “What would you would do without me?”

Fitz stood up abruptly.

“I have to go,” he stated with determination.

“Sure you do” Hunter patted his arm. “And don’t go, run. Before she changes her mind.”

“I owe you a beer, Hunter. And you too, Trip,” he said, moving away from the table.

“More than one, if you ask me!” Hunter yelled after him.

* * *

 

Simmons was sitting on her bed in her pyjamas, eating ice cream and sniffling a little every now and then. Surprisingly, she wasn’t sobbing yet. That was probably because the movie on TV was actually funny and had distracted her enough not to break. It still wasn’t enough to stop tears from streaming slowly down her cheeks, though. The real disaster would probably start soon, when the reality fully hit her.

The sound of the doorbell cut into her tiny, cozy room, reminding her that there was a cold, cruel world outside, and that it apparently hadn’t forgotten about her.

Untangling her legs from the blanket took her a moment; then she stumbled on her shoes that were laying discarded in the hall. When she finally made it to the door, she was almost more irritated at Skye for forgetting her keys than she was heartbroken. Almost. Still, it was middle of the night, so she looked through the peephole first. What she saw caused her to move away abruptly and take a deep, shaky breath. Only then did she reach for the lock with trembling fingers, sure that she didn’t have enough strength left to deal with what would happen next.

“Hi.” Fitz greeted her, a little out of breath, his left arm resting against the door frame. “I know it’s late, but maybe you’d like to go for a walk with me?” He was looking at her with a serious expression.

“Just the two of us?” she asked in surprise, not letting herself get too excited. There would be a catch. With him there was always a catch.

“That’s standard for dates, right?” He smiled at her bashfully, a little uncertain.

Simmons stood there, not believing her ears, because it didn’t make sense. After all this time, after he’d ignored her at the bar, _now_ he came around talking about dates? It seemed like a joke, but she couldn’t believe that he would be that cruel.

“You...you’re going on a date?” She tried to make sense of what was happening. Starting with analysis seemed good.

“Trying to, yes,” he nodded.

“With me?”

“Depending on your answer.” He bit his lip and started drumming his fingers over the wood of her door frame.

“Now?”

“Well, I was thinking that...” Apparently he was not as calm as he looked, since he moved away and started waving his hands, as if it would help him articulate his intentions. “We could... I figured that I... kind of wasted enough time, yeah? So we could... but if you don’t want to-”

“I do,” she interrupted him, because she would not let this opportunity pass.

“We can go another time,” he assured her, twisting his hands. “Somewhere else, to some place nicer than-”

“Now is okay,” she assured him, and took her keys from the hook on the wall, ready to go through the door.

“Maybe take your coat,” he suggested, looking at her nervously, like he was scared that she would change her mind.

“Oh.” She looked at her clothes and could feel a blush coming over her face. “You’re right, I better find something, um... nice to wear.”

“You don’t have to, it’s not far-” He was smiling widely now and she couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’ll be right back, just-”

“I’ll wait,” he interrupted, nodding, and she smiled, feeling excitement already bubbling inside her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "Eyes On Me" by Faye Wong (from Final Fantasy VIII)


	17. I believe in love, like the stars above, everlasting

Getting ready took her a while, but she tried to go as quickly as possible, not wanting Fitz to wait too long. There was no time for makeup or jewelry or all the other things she would normally do, so she just put some clothes on and brushed her hair. It wasn’t like any fancy restaurant was open at that hour. Looking presentable enough, she went back to him and locked the door to the apartment behind her. She went to the stairs, but Fitz surprised her again, going up instead of down.

“I thought about the park,” he explained sheepishly when she furrowed her brows, confused. “But it’s not the safest place at this hour, and the restaurants, well, they need reservations and since I wasn’t planning... I mean I _haven’t had_ a plan, um, until the last minute I guess-”

“Fitz,” she cut in. “The point?”

“Yeah, I thought we could just... go to the roof?” he asked uncertainly. “Watch the lights?”

“All right,” she agreed.

It wasn’t her dream date, for sure. She’d been on the roof a few times; it wasn’t one with a little garden or even a sitting area. There was nothing there. They were in the middle of a city, it wasn’t like they could see the stars from there. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. He was trying and that was all that counted at the moment.

They arrived at the roof and once again she was surprised. There were lights: a delicate web of shiny, colourful LEDs was spread just a few feet before her,  looking like a tent made of light. She followed Fitz over and noticed a blanket spread under it. He sat down there and she followed, settling right next to him, and looked up at the tiny, blinking bulbs that were covering the dark night sky.

“You made this?” she asked in disbelief, and saw him nod. “How?”

“Walmart. Open 24/7,” he explained. “I figured that we couldn’t just sit here in complete darkness.”

“How did you managed to, to...” She waved her hand around, unable to speak.

“Hey, I have a PhD in engineering,” he pointed out.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, mesmerized by the changing lights above her head.

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled. “But they’re not the main attraction. Look there.” He waved at the city in front of them and she looked at where he was pointing. “Here. The... um, the lights,” he finished lamely.

The view was really astonishing and she couldn’t understand how she could have been living in that building for so long without ever noticing this. During the day there was only a gray mass of concrete to be seen, but now, there were lights all around them, all shining from the windows, the neon of the signs and the cars, making the city at their feet look like a river of light.

“Wow,” she said under her breath. Sure, it wasn’t a fancy restaurant or a romantic walk, but given that Fitz had probably put it all together in the last 30 minutes, it was really impressive.

“I have some wine and cheese. As cheesy as it sounds,” he joked and she laughed, looking back at him when he started to take things out of a plastic bag that was sitting at the edge of the blanket. “It’s a cheap wine from the supermarket and I only have plastic cups...” He started apologizing, even thought she couldn’t stop smiling happily.

“That’s fine,” she assured him. “Perfectly fine.” She took one of the cups from him.

They sat there for a moment in silence, just watching the lights, eating cheese and drinking the wine.

“I owe you a huge apology.” Fitz broke the silence and looked away from her, stealing a guilty glance every now and then. “I was an idiot and I... the way I behaved... I’m sorry. I never intended to hurt you. Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted. And yet I did. I’m really sorry, Jemma.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, deciding that it was only fair to let him know that some of his actions had indeed hurt. “Maybe sometimes. The _’nice singing_ ’ was quite a low blow.”

“Yeah, even Hunter agreed and his standards are, well...” he agreed with her. “I’m sorry.” He looked at her, his eyes shining with regret and something else, something new. “I really am. And I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you-”

“You don’t have to,” she stopped him, putting a hand on his knee. “What happened, happened. It’s in the past already. It’s not a... a tab or a debt to pay. We’re here now, right? That’s what matters.”

“I was a total jerk,” he pointed out.

“A little,” she agreed, because there was no point in trying to build anything on lies. “But you showed me more care while being a jerk than my previous boyfriends during the honeymoon period.”

“Previous boyfriends?” he smirked. “You currently have one?”

“You tell me.” She smiled brightly at him.  

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” he said, putting his hand on top of hers. “But I can tell you that you are the most brilliant, kind, talented, amazing and astonishingly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Totally worth risking my heart being broken-”

“Fitz-” She tried to stop him, to tell him that it wouldn’t happen, but he didn’t let her.

“Shush, let me finish. You know what my father did. My whole life I let it haunt me. I was always running away, afraid of being hurt. Again. But you... I’ll risk it. For you. So, all I’m saying is, if you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to try. To see where it could go.”

“I’d like that too,” she said, moving closer, a huge, happy smile on her face as she entwined her fingers with his. “I understand that your past was not, um, the happiest. But that doesn’t have to define the future for you. For us. There will be problems and complications, but if we try, we can fix them, together. As long as we keep communicating and trying, everything will be all right in the end. Maybe not perfect, but all right. We can make it work if we want, Fitz,” she assured him.

“I want to,” he nodded.

“You won’t run away anymore?” she asked him, still needing just a little more after the emotional roller coaster she’d gone through in the past few months.

“No,” he said firmly.

“You won’t push me away?” She moved closer

“No.”

“But you’ll tell me if I’m going too far, too fast?” That was important. They couldn’t succeed if they din’t communicate. That was the true problem with Fitz, the fact that he just smiled and remained silent, keeping things to himself while pretending that he was fine.

“I will.” He moved closer

“You won’t change your mind tomorrow?”

“No. No way,” he grinned.

Simmons looked at him with a smile on her face. They were separated only by mere inches of air warmed by their breaths now. She took in his eyes and brows and his forehead framed by his soft curls, his nose and cheekbones, his firm jaw with a shadow stubble, and his lips. She wanted to just tilt her head a little and kiss him, but she hesitated. It was too soon, he’d just opened up to her, they were building something on fragile ground and going too fast could ruin everything. They were on a good track, she didn’t need to rush him or force him to move faster, if she wanted them to even have a chance of ever going forward. Patience and patience once more, that was...

A warm, surprisingly soft touch on her lips cut through her thoughts, stopping them instantly. His mouth moved just a little, carefully caressing hers with light touches, warmth radiating from his kiss. The smell of spice and cinnamon with a taste of wine surrounded her and she wanted to drown in it. His calloused fingertips brushed over her cheekbone with barely any pressure, his whole body hesitant like he would run away in a moment, unsure of her reaction. He started to pull back but she couldn’t let that happen, she needed to show him that he had no reason to be unsure.

She opened her eyes and saw his filled with a mix of happiness and cautiousness. She caught his face in her hands, twisting her fingers into his curls to stop him from moving away, and leaned forward to capture his lips again, to show him that he had no reason to feel uncertain and hesitant, absolutely no reason at all. She closed her eyes again, because who cared about stars and lights when she had the whole universe in front of her? Kissing him with an eagerness she could barely withhold, she moved her lips against his and anticipated his every answer, delighted every time he followed her or chose to take the lead himself. His hair felt like soft fluff as she caressed her fingers through it, massaging his scalp in slow circles and twisting her fingers into it a little harder when his teeth scraped over her bottom lip. His hand returned to her cheek, brushing it gently, but it still wasn’t enough. She smoothed hers down his jaw, trying to pull him closer. He got the clue, because his other hand caught her by the waist, causing butterflies to explode in her stomach. She shifted a little, trying to get closer to him, her fingers letting go of his face to twist into his coat, his hand moved to her back and held her closer. It made her dizzy but she didn’t want to stop, not when one of his hands was supporting her back and the other was tangled in her hair. Not when his mouth felt so amazing against her own and the heat around them was rising, setting her whole body on fire, and everything around her was Fitz and he was smell and touch and sound and air.

Finally they moved away from each other, cold air filling the void left by his body, throwing her out of her daze, eyes wide open and staring into his.

“See?” She smiled at him. “Isn’t this memory-worthy?”

“It’s worthy of making another one,” he answered, and tilted his head to capture her lips again.

* * *

 

A month later they were sitting in the same karaoke bar where it all started, with Skye, Trip, Bobbi and Hunter. Fitz was finally back from his brief work for A.I.M. and was sitting beside his friends with his girlfriend’s head on his shoulder, his arm circled around her waist. The evening was nice but a little quiet and Simmons was getting just a little bored with it.

“Fitz,” she nudged him.

“Hmm?” He looked at her and brushed a hand over her hair.

“You’ve never told me what that bet was about,” she asked.

“The bet?” He couldn’t understand what she was talking about.

“The bet you had with Hunter. The one that you lost and had to sing for,” she reminded him.

“Oh, that one. Yeah, I’m not telling, it was stupid.”

“Tell me,” she pleaded.

“Why? It was just a dumb bet,” he shrugged.

“So that I can make the same bet and make you sing it again, this time properly?” she tried.

“You don’t need a bet to do that,” he smiled at her. “I’ll do it if you want.”

“Really?” She moved to have a better view of his face.

“Sure.”

“You hate that song.”

“But you love it. Besides, it’s not so bad. You were right, it was all about overcoming obstacles, not about hiding who you truly are.” He smiled and moved to stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“To sing ‘I’ll Make a Man Out of You’,” he winked at her.

“Wait,” she caught his arm and he looked at her, confused. “I’m going with you.”

“To the stage?”

“Yes. To sing my favourite song with my favourite person,” she smiled, and followed him to the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title is from "The Writing's On The Wall" from Rudolf, The Last Kiss musical


	18. Epilogue

There was a loud knock on the door that abruptly pulled Simmons out of her sleep. The sound of Skye's loud growling followed just after.

“I've got it!” Simmons shouted while digging herself out of her covers, because somehow she had a good feeling about it. She didn't want to raise her hopes up too much, but somehow she couldn't supress the tiny excitement that told her to get up and check faster. She barely forced herself to stop and grab a sweater, and didn't even bother to look at her alarm clock or pull the curtains aside to look through the window.

She got to the front door, pushed by her bubbling expectations, and looked through the peephole. A smile broke over her face as she jumped to unlock the door.

“Hi, Nightingale.” Fitz smiled the moment he saw her behind the door, his bag covered with airport stamps and stickers laying next to his feet on the ground.

“You're back!” She smiled from ear to ear and threw her arms around his neck.

“Yeah, I know, I promised to call, but we landed earlier so I thought I would come by and say it myself. Surprise you a little.” He circled his arms around her waist and she shivered when his skin touched hers where her sweater wasn’t covering it. “Sorry, I'm cold.” He tried to move his hands away but she whined and hugged him closer, because yes, he was cold, but he smelled nice and perfect and his breath on her neck was warming her up more than enough.

“You're not going anywhere,” she mumbled, and he chuckled into her ear, moving his hands a little so as not to touch her skin directly.

“I missed you,” he whispered, and kissed her temple.

“I missed you more.” She took a step back, letting go of him only enough to let him take his luggage and bring it inside her flat, pushing the door closed with her feet a second after. “I'm glad you're finally back.” She looked at his face and smiled at his blue eyes looking straight into hers. She raised her hand to touch the stubble covering his jaw and smiled again, thinking about how, after coming back from his two-month delegation he didn't even bother to stop by his own apartment and shave. Or sleep. Or probably even eat.

“I'll make you some breakfast,” she declared, and got on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Sounds nice.” He smiled against her lips when they parted. “But I should be offering, I'm the one intruding.”

“You're also the one who finally just got back after being away for way too long.” She moved to the kitchen’s door.

“Bloody hell.” She heard him swear under his breath and turned to look at him. “It's 4:27am?! I forgot to change my clock, I thought it was closer to 8. I'm sorry, Jemma, I shouldn't have come and I woke you up-”

“I'm glad you came. Besides, since it's not 5 am yet, we can be sure that Skye will sleep like a log for at least 3 more hours.” She smirked at him.

“I should go and let you sleep.” He didn’t look convinced. “Really Jemma, I’ll go back to my flat and you go back to bed, we’ll both rest and meet afterwards.”

“No, first you need breakfast, then you’ll sleep. Jet lag will hit you soon, you should rest now, so no discussion.”

“Oh, kicking me out already?”

“I'm not kicking you out of the flat, silly,” she laughed. “I'm kicking you into my bed.” She winked and went into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Simmons was a terrible cook and she was perfectly aware of it. Salads, she could handle. She could make some killer sandwiches too, but anything that required actual cooking, frying, baking, seasoning and timing, all at once? Not so much.

“Just try not to burn the eggs, like last time,” she murmured to herself, focusing on the frying pan so hard she could have probably fried the eggs with just her eyes. She really wanted it to turn out well. She couldn’t forget what Fitz had told her a long while ago about his childhood, how he associated burned breakfast with his mother’s breakdown over being left by the love of her life and Fitz feeling abandoned by his father. She was trying her best to make it delicious, to avoid bringing back sad memories.

It didn’t help that after a moment Fitz was standing behind her, circling his arms around her waist and kissing her neck, pulling her back against his chest.

“If you don’t stop breakfast will be burned.” she pointed out, trying to not lose her focus under his mouth’s ministrations.

“I like your burned food,” he admitted. “It’s proof I can keep your priorities straight.”

“Really?” She couldn’t quite believe that.

“Really. You must really like me if you find me more important than food.”

“Of course I like you, silly. You think I make breakfast for everyone before 5am?”

He laughed and kissed her again.

She burned breakfast.

He didn’t mind and even took seconds.

* * *

 

They were lying in bed, her back to his chest, his breath getting more and more steady on her neck with each second that passed, her eyes closing both from sleepiness and contentment.

Simmons looked at her hand, where her ring was shining slightly in the morning light.

It was a simple round diamond stone, the kind that she for ages had thought was the most plain and unoriginal one ever, and was at the very bottom of her wish list. But it was Fitz who had chosen this particular ring and she’d adored it from the moment she’d first seen it. She couldn’t love it more. She wouldn’t ever switch it for any other type and she wore it proudly every day, not taking it off even for the slightest moment- just for the lab, and even then she put it on her necklace to keep it close. She bragged to everyone about it  every chance she got.

“Have you se-” she mumbled, half asleep, raising her hand to his face.

“Yeah,” he mumbled back, catching her hand. “I’ve seen your ring, I was the one who gave it to you, remember?” he said playfully, and kissed her knuckles, his lips nuzzling her skin a little.

Of course she remembered. How could she ever forget that beautiful memory, as well as the many other moments of pure happiness that they’d given each other by now? Each time she remembered them filled her with joy and the thought that there were even more memories of her and Fitz yet to be made truly brightened her life with hope and happiness.

Their memories were truly worth all the pain they both had to go through at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. Feedback is a Ray of Sunshine, so drop a comment if you have a while ;)


End file.
